Learning to Fly
by Michmak
Summary: A new case proves interesting for the team; Sara and Grissom feel each other out; Catherine and Warrick start…something. WIP
1. LEARNING TO FLY

Title: Learning to Fly  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: A new case proves interesting for the team; Sara and Grissom feel each other out; Catherine and Warrick start.something.  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine. None of them. *SOB!*  
  
____________________  
  
  
  
"So, what do we have here?" Grissom's voice was oddly resigned as he surveyed the scene before him. A milieu of gawkers stood behind the yellow crime tape, watching with various degrees of avid curiosity as the paramedics worked frantically on the twisted form of the young man lying on the pavement.  
  
Brass grunted, "Not sure yet. Original thought was we had a jumper, but he's still alive and if he'd jumped from the top of that-" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the 40 story hotel behind him, "he'd be a lot flatter."  
  
"Yo, Grissom! What's up?" Nick had arrived, smiling easily at Brass before turning towards his supervisor.  
  
Grissom looked at his watch, "I paged you 30 minutes ago - what took you so long?"  
  
Nick sighed, and looked over Grissom's shoulder at Sara who was quickly approaching from the parking lot. "Sara and I were watching a movie at my place, and neither of us heard my pager. But I'm here now, and as an added bonus, Sara's here too."  
  
Grissom frowned at this, and Nick was unsure whether it was because he hadn't heard the pager, because Sara had been at his place or because she was here now. Sighing at Grissom's silence, Nick ran a hand through his short hair roughly, and grimaced at Sara. "We're in shit, Sidle."  
  
"Why?" Sara shot him her gap-toothed grin, "Hey Griss - what's going on?"  
  
"Not sure yet," Nick couldn't help but notice Grissom's features smooth over when Sara spoke to him, and he tried to hide his amusement. Even Grissom was not immune to her, and where Nick loved Sara like a sister he was pretty sure for Grissom it was something more. "We're trying to figure out where the guy over there came from."  
  
Sara and Nick both looked at the man lying on the pavement, blood seeping out around him. The paramedics were trying to stabilize him, placing an oxygen mask over his badly damaged face, monitoring his vital signs, and quietly trying to determine how to get him on the nearby gurney without injuring him further. From the awkward angle of the man's legs and arms, he had obviously broken several bones, and the concerned look on the paramedics' faces told their own story. Nick didn't think the man was going to survive.  
  
"He jump?" Sara's tone was curt, and her eyes glanced upwards, flying to the rooftop before crashing back to the man bleeding out on the pavement.  
  
"Brass says no - not flat enough," Grissom winced slightly as he said this, before turning to look at Brass and resuming the conversation they had been having before Nick had arrived. "So, if he didn't jump, where did he come from? This isn't ancient Greece, so I don't think he fell fully formed from the sky, dropped by Zeus. Do we have any witnesses?"  
  
"Not really - a couple people who saw him hit, but no one who saw where he fell from. Poor bastard."  
  
The four of them watched as the paramedics started barking tensely at each other, and Nick winced as he saw one of the paramedics try to perform CPR on the man. His chest was so pulpy, the slight pressure the paramedic applied caused it to ripple - their victim must have shattered every rib when he hit the pavement. Sighing sadly, Nick doffed his cap as he realized the man had flat lined. Looking at the mangled body, he knew the man had little to no chance of making it anyway, but he was saddened to realize the paramedics would be taking him to the morgue instead of the hospital.  
  
Grissom stepped forward, motioning for Sara to grab the camera. "Please don't move the body anymore, gentlemen," he instructed the paramedics. "The area has already been compromised enough. Let us gather what evidence we can, and then you can take him to the morgue at the police station on Trop. Nick, call Doc Robbins and let him know we'll be sending him someone."  
  
He coolly snapped on his latex gloves, "Can you tell me exactly how he was laying before you moved him?"  
  
The larger of the two paramedics stood slowly, nodding grimly at Grissom, "Rick, fill out the time of death - where's the coroner?"  
  
Grissom smiled slightly as David stepped forward, speaking quietly to the smaller paramedic - Rick - serious gaze quickly scanning over the body. He stepped towards the larger paramedic again, motioning for Nick to follow him. To his left, Sara was snapping photos.  
  
"We only rolled him slightly on to his back to give us better access to his chest. His legs are in the same basic position, but he was twisted at the torso, his weight distributed mostly on his left shoulder and his left chest. His face was against the pavement."  
  
As the paramedic spoke, hands indicating how the body had been lying, Nick shone his flashlight to the left of the body. "Griss - you can see where he hit. It's outlined in blood." Grissom merely nodded at him absently, and continued talking to the paramedic.  
  
"Nick," Sara's voice made him start slightly - he hadn't realized he had walked into her shot, and he quickly stepped back.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered, "You getting the blood stains?"  
  
"Almost as good as chalk," Sara responded, "You almost done there, David? Can Nick and I move in?"  
  
David smiled at Sara, that slightly dopey grin the coroner always got around her twisting his mouth, "Yeah. Time of death ruled at 8:30 pm. I'm surprised he survived the hit. See you back at the morgue, Sara."  
  
Nick cocked an eyebrow at Sara, trying not to grin as David walked away, "See you back at the morgue, Sara," he mimicked, "oh - and bye, Nick."  
  
Sara just rolled her eyes, "You're just jealous because he likes me better then you," she teased back, "admit it, Nick - you lurve him."  
  
"My secret is out - hey, Sara - look at this guys' hands." Nick was suddenly serious, and he crouched beside the body, flashlight illuminating the back of his right hand. A vivid bruise stood in stark contrast against the pale skin just below the knuckles. Running across the back of his hand, the bruise was about an inch and a half thick.  
  
Sara quickly snapped some photos. "Wonder what caused that?" she muttered. "Does he have similar markings on his left hand?"  
  
Nick quickly checked, turning the hand slightly at the wrist, "Nothing."  
  
"Nothing noticeable," Sara agreed. "Did anyone check this guy for ID?"  
  
"I do not know. He doesn't appear to have any pockets for it." Nick frowned as he said this, studying the man's clothing. "What is this guy wearing?"  
  
"Clothes," Grissom's dry voice broke into the conversation. Sara snorted.  
  
"They're pretty tight. All black. No pockets. Not typical 'night on the town' clothing. Definitely not the Gap."  
  
The three CSIs studied the clothing intently, trying to figure out what the guy was wearing. "They remind me of something," Nick offered, "I've seen clothes like this before." When Grissom looked at him, waiting for him to offer more, he shrugged. "It will come to me."  
  
Nick left Sara and Grissom and went over to where Brass was standing, talking to a young couple. The girl was wearing a light suit jacket, obviously belonging to her date, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Brass, for all his gruffness, was talking to her gently, trying to pry any undivuldged information from her.  
  
"When did you first see him?"  
  
"I already told you -"  
  
"She already told you that!" the boyfriend's voice drowned hers out. "Why do you keep asking her these questions - us these questions? We told you what we know, which is nothing! Three steps further forward and he would have landed on us."  
  
Brass grimaced, "Then you should be glad you weren't walking faster. Listen, Drew -right? Listen, we're just doing our jobs here. Sometimes, a witness will forget something. They might not think it's important, but it almost always is. So we need to ask you several times to make sure we're getting the entire story. So, Stacey - when did you first see him?"  
  
"Just before he hit. I don't know what made me look up, because I don't think he was screaming on the way down, but one minute he was in the air, and the next minute - not," she finished weakly.  
  
"That how you remember it, Drew?"  
  
"He whistled when he went by. The air around him - whistled."  
  
"Moving fast, was he? But you didn't see where he fell from?"  
  
"I assume the roof of the hotel, but I didn't see. Where else could he have been?"  
  
Brass shrugged, "Did you see anything else?"  
  
The young man shook his head mutely, but the girl suddenly looked up, "Did you get his hat?"  
  
Nick stepped in, "Hat? I was just over there, ma'am. He's not wearing a hat."  
  
"He was - a dark one, like a watch cap. It flew off when he hit the sidewalk."  
  
Nick sighed and looked at Brass, "I'll go and look." He headed back to the body, noting that the crowd, which had already been large when they had arrived, had grown exponentially. Bunch of pissant gawkers, he thought to himself. He wanted to tell them to get moving, that this was a real crime scene, not NYPD Blue, but he didn't.  
  
"Hey, Gris! One of our witnesses says he was wearing a hat - dark watch cap. You guys see it?"  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. "Momentum."  
  
He turned to look at the body again, and Nick looked with him, running over in his mind where the body had lain when it hit. "You think it went out into the street?"  
  
Grissom shrugged. "How long has that vehicle been there?" he indicated the Miata parked against the curb, about four feet from the impact site.  
  
Nick grinned as he shone his light under the body of the car, "Long enough. Hand me a bag?" Lying on his stomach, he scooched forward, snagging the cap easily before sliding back and depositing it in the evidence bag Grissom was holding. The two men held the bag up, squinting at it against the bright lights of the strip.  
  
"Black. Black cap. Black shirt. Black pants. Black sneakers. Victim fell from a fair height - not the roof, but no balconies, and no reports of broken windows." Nick turned his flashlight on again, sweeping it slowly up the side of the building, "I got a theory, Grissom," he muttered as he studied the beam, inching slowly from window to window. He paused as his light illuminated -something- against the tinted glass, drifting back over and sticking about 40 feet up. "Suction cups - heavy duty. We got ourselves a cat burglar."  
  
________________  
  
Author's Notes:  
  
Okay, okay. I know I'm still working on TIN MAN. I understand this. But I lost some of it the other day, and have to re-group and re-write. I decided to start this - not a continuation of anything, but it's been kicking around in my notes and needed to be started. 


	2. AUDRA

II - AUDRA  
  
"Grissom should be around here somewhere, don't you think Warrick?" Catherine looked at the tall man walking beside her into the lobby of Icarus, the latest hotel to grace the Las Vegas strip.  
  
Beside her, Warrick grunted, "He would be outside, Cath. Probable jumper, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad he didn't page me to that - I hate watching suicides get peeled from the pavement. It's disgusting." She looked around the massive lobby, ignoring the hustle and bustle of well-heeled socialites and heavy hitters boiling around them, and smiled when she spotted the concierge. "I think that's the guy we're supposed to be talking with."  
  
"What are we here for again?" Warrick sighed as he followed Catherine to the side counter, smiling gamely at the concierge when the man looked at them and their bulky field kits, not even trying to hide his dismay.  
  
"Must you were wear those coats in our hotel?" were the first words out of his mouth, "we don't want to worry our patrons. It's bad enough having all the police officers milling around in front of our secondary entrance where that guy jumped - if they see you in here, it will be even worse!"  
  
Catherine looked at the man tolerantly, "We're Crime Scene Investigators - this is part of the uniform. Sorry it bothers you, but the jackets stay. I'm Catherine Willows, by the way."  
  
"Warrick Brown," Warrick inserted.  
  
"I'm the concierge, Mr. Miles. I need to get you out of the lobby. Please follow me."  
  
Warrick rolled his eyes at Catherine at they followed Mr. Miles quickly through the lobby, by-passing the main bank of elevators, and heading back through the bowels of the hotel. They finally stopped at a large service elevator, Mr. Miles quickly pulling out a key and inserting it in the slot, activating it. "While you're here, please use the service elevator," he stated, "as the main elevators are for our paying guests."  
  
Catherine sighed, "Listen, Mr. Miles, we're going to use whatever elevator is closest. I would suggest you reconcile yourself to that. Now, can you tell us what you know about why we're here?"  
  
The man looked at her pissily, and shrugged, "We've had a robbery - penthouse apartment. Mr. and Mrs. van der Brucke - stolen jewelry."  
  
"van der Brucke? The diamond family?" Warrick asked.  
  
"That's the one - Mr. van der Brucke is the CEO of van der Brucke Diamonds and Mining. He and his wife are here on business."  
  
They had arrived at the penthouse, stepping in through the back kitchen area and into the massive living room. The penthouse was huge, beautifully appointed with large marble columns, stunning mosaic floors, and beautiful furniture. Sitting on the sofa, an older man was talking quietly to a police detective, hands gesticulating every once and a while as if making a point. They both looked when Catherine and Warrick stopped just in front of them.  
  
"Are you the crime people?" the older man stood, elegantly smoothing his dress pants. He had a slight accent, and his handshake was firm. "I am Willem van der Brucke."  
  
Catherine and Warrick quickly introduced themselves.  
  
"Where's your wife, Mr. van der Brucke?" Catherine asked politely.  
  
He waved a hand negligently, "Oh, she went shopping with Marta - a friend of hers. I haven't seen her since I left for a business dinner around 6:00. She was just getting ready to leave as well."  
  
Warrick looked at his watch. "When are you expecting her to return? It's past midnight."  
  
Van der Brucke shrugged, smiling indulgently, "When Audra is with Marta, I never know."  
  
"When did you realize there had been a robbery?" Catherine questioned.  
  
"When I returned from my dinner. The wall safe was open. The necklaces, the rings - everything has been taken, including some diamonds I had brought with me for a jeweler friend of mine."  
  
"Would your wife have taken anything to show her friend?"  
  
"I was the only one with the combination for the safe."  
  
Warrick turned to the concierge, who was still standing to the side of the sofa, "Mr. Miles - what type of security measures does the hotel have in place?"  
  
"We have the best security in Las Vegas!" the man looked offended. "The main elevator can only come to the penthouse if you have a key - which Mr. van der Brucke and his wife have, and the service elevator is the same - master key only. I have one, the day manager has one, and the Maid Services manager has one. Plus, we have security cameras in both elevators, and front lobby of the penthouse."  
  
"Can you show us where the safe is?" Warrick followed Mr. Miles into the library of the penthouse, Catherine and Mr. van der Brucke trailing behind. The open safe was immediately obvious, the empty vault gleaming hollowly when he shone a light in. "Did you touch anything, Mr. van der Brucke? The safe - anything in this general area?"  
  
"I reached into the safe, but that's it."  
  
"Has your wife ever reached into the safe?"  
  
"No. She has her own safe for her jewelry, in the bedroom."  
  
"Have you checked her safe?"  
  
"No. I only saw this one - and I called the police. They told me to wait in the living room and not to touch anything until the detective got here."  
  
Warrick looked at Catherine. "Let's go check the bedroom safe. Which way, Mr. van der Brucke?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Body's on the way to Robbins," Sara commented as she joined Grissom. He was looking up, light flashing on the dark suction cups he and Nick had spotted earlier. "Where's Nick?"  
  
"Look up." Grissom shoot his beam skyward, smiling when Sara craned her graceful neck backwards, following the light.  
  
High above them, a window washers cage was being lowered. Squinting into the night, the baseball-capped head of Nick was barely visible peering over the edge.  
  
"How did you manage to get that?"  
  
Grissom shrugged, "Night maintenance. He's with Nick. Hotel doesn't contract out for window washing, so they had the cage here."  
  
"I bet the maintenance guy's not too happy about doing this in the middle of the night."  
  
"Time is evidence, Sara. We can't leave our victims' tools of the trade stuck there - who knows what we've already lost just from element degradation."  
  
Sara grinned, "I'm surprised you're not retrieving them - something like this seems right up your line, sort of like riding a rollercoaster."  
  
Grissom grunted, "Nick found them - he gets them." He shifted uncomfortably when Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, suddenly grinning.  
  
"You're scared of heights." When Grissom didn't respond, Sara nudged him gently with her hip, tucking her hands into her pockets, her grin widening. "You are scared of heights! This is rich."  
  
Grissom felt her heat beside him seeping through the sleeves of his shirt. Where she had gently nudged him, he burned - ever nerve ending tingling in awareness. He frowned at her, "Sara - don't you have anything better to do?"  
  
Sara just laughed, and shot another glance upwards. Nick was shining his flashlight against the side of the building as the cage slowly lowered, sweeping it in three foot arcs back and forth. About 20 feet above his actual target height, the cage suddenly stopped. Nick's head popped over the side, light illuminating Grissom and Sara several stories below him, and he whistled sharply.  
  
"Gris - Sara. We've got some blood up here!" he hollered at them. Over the noise on the street, Sara barely managed to hear him. Grissom was at a complete loss.  
  
"What did he say?" he asked Sara in irritation.  
  
"Something about blood. Doesn't he have his walkie?" Cupping her hands around her mouth, she hollered up at him, "Did you say blood?"  
  
Nick flashed her the thumbs up sign, and she turned to Grissom, her expression considering, "He's got some blood."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The bedroom of the penthouse was just as luxurious as the rest of the place. Warrick tried not to whistle as he entered the room, noting the larger than king-size bed, overloaded with large pillows and a comforter as thick as a mattress. On the side of the bed, a black silk bra set lay beside a red silk sundress, standing out starkly against the pale comforter.  
  
"Where's the safe?"  
  
"It's built into the wall on the other side of the bed - the night stand is a front for it," van der Brucke answered him. Warrick quickly walked to the other side of the bed, pausing suddenly before he turned to Catherine.  
  
"Cath. I need you over here," he was staring at the floor on the other side of the bed, noting absently that the safe was open and empty. That was not what had caught his attention, however. In front of the safe, slim arm reaching out towards nothing, a young woman lay stretched. Her white silk make-up robe was bunched up around her hips, as if she had been crawling and had shucked it up around her waist to avoid getting tangled in the material. A pool of blood stained the thick carpet underneath her.  
  
Catherine looked at the woman quickly, before turning to face Mr. van der Brucke. "How old is your wife, Mr. van der Brucke?" she asked gently, her face neutral as she waited for his response.  
  
"Why?" the older man asked, suddenly tense as he rushed across the room. He stopped dead when he saw the young woman lying there, his face collapsing in on itself in shock and grief. "Audra - oh my God, Audra."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"We have another DB," Brass announced as he approached Grissom and Sara. Nick was still in the cage, having carefully taken samples of the blood he had found along with photos, before carefully retrieving the suction cups he had originally been after.  
  
Grissom looked at him in surprise. "Where? Here?"  
  
"Hotel penthouse. Catherine and Warrick were called in for a robbery, found a body."  
  
Sara looked at Grissom, "Think our DB's are related?"  
  
"It would be too much of a coincidence for them not to be. How did she die?"  
  
Brass shrugged, "Warrick says gunshot. If you guys are finished here, I'll take you up."  
  
"The blood Nick found -" Sara began, then stopped. "Since when do cat- burglars carry guns?"  
  
Grissom shrugged, "Since when do cat-burglars plummet to their deaths?"  
  
"Right," Sara sighed suddenly, "Nick will be on the roof soon, shall we tell him to come straight to the penthouse?"  
  
Grissom turned to look at her. "Wait for Nick here - then you two go back to the lab, and start processing the evidence. Talk to Robbins - see what he can tell us. I'll go and talk to Catherine and Warrick, and join you soon. C'mon Brass, let's go." __________  
  
Author's note: Short, so bear with me. I'm trying to set-up for future chapters here. Everything in it's place, and all that crap. 


	3. SUCTION

III - SUCTION  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke, you say you left the penthouse for a business meeting around 6:00, and your wife was getting ready to go shopping with her friend?" Catherine's voice was carefully neutral as she spoke with the shaken man.  
  
"Yes - I left at 6:00, returned around 10:30 and found the open safe in the library. Do you think - was Audra still alive when I came back? If I had gone to check her safe, I would have found her. She would still be alive." The older man was barely managing to speak. In the last 20 minutes, Catherine had watched him age 20 years. She squeezed his hand gently, eyes contacting with Grissom and Brass as they walked into the penthouse. Behind them, the odious Mr. Miles, was wringing his hands ineffectually, muttering under his breath about the hotel's reputation. Catherine wanted to slap him.  
  
"You don't know that, Mr. van der Brucke. We've called the coroner - he'll be here soon, and he'll be able to tell us more."  
  
"Did the young man you were with cover her, as I asked? She needs to be - she wouldn't like anyone seeing her like that, just a robe, no clothes -" he trailed off, eyes tearing. "I was supposed to die before her."  
  
"We can't cover her, Mr. van der Brucke, until we've processed the crime scene. I'm sorry. Do you have Marta's phone number? We'll need to speak with her, find out if you're wife met her or not. Her clothing didn't appear to be touched."  
  
"Marta's number is stored in my cell phone," the older man reached for the suit jacket he had slung hours ago over the sofa, and pulled it out of his pocket, "Number 9."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. van der Brucke. I need to talk to my colleagues for a minute. Will you be all right by yourself?"  
  
"I will never be all right again," he whispered softly, as Catherine turned away from him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I wondered what this place looked like inside," David the coroner mumbled at Warrick when he arrived, smiling faintly, "Two times in one night - I had the jumper from earlier."  
  
He crouched down, hands running gently over her form, compulsively checking for her pulse even though he knew he wouldn't find one. "She's a pretty girl. What a shame."  
  
Warrick sighed in agreement, "Her husband is in shock."  
  
He watched as David quickly performed a couple of tests, taking a temperature reading from the body and noting it down in his book. "You already take your photos?" When Warrick nodded, he grunted, "Good. Help me roll her over, and let's check this out."  
  
Very carefully the two men worked together to roll her over, David gently loosening the ties of her robe. "She bled out - the bullet hit something major. Judging from the bullet hole, I'd say liver." Quickly adjusting the robe to cover her up, Warrick sighed.  
  
"When do you think she died?"  
  
David looked at the body temperature he had recorded. "Well, based on average body temperature, and using simple math, I'd say place time of death between 9:00 and 10:00."  
  
"That's good," Warrick sighed, noticing David's startled look. "Her husband told Catherine he didn't get back until 10:30, but he never came into the bedroom. If she were my wife, I'd be wondering if I could have saved her. At least I'll be able to tell him even if he had found her, it was too late. That should count for something."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"These are heavy duty suction cups, Sara," Nick muttered as he pulled them out of his field kit, "just look at them."  
  
"Why didn't they go with our burglar, though? I'm trying to figure out how he could fall but leave those behind." Sara sighed in irritation and shook her head, "and what type of fool decides to strap these on to scale an 80 story building? How do you discover you have an aptitude for something like that?"  
  
Behind her, Greg snorted. He had been happy to see Nick and Sara arrive with their field kits, because he had been bored. Now that they were back, there was something for him to do - and from the sounds of it, with Catherine, Warrick and Grissom at another crime scene, there would be even more later on.  
  
"What's in his tool bag?" he asked. Nick and Sara looked at him, and Sara shook her head.  
  
"No tool bag, Greg. Just him. We don't even have ID."  
  
Greg sighed, "You say he's a cat-burglar, so I understand the ID thing, but why no tools? Where was he going, or coming from. He was on the outside of the building - how was he planning on getting in? No self respecting thief is going to go into a job without the proper tools - glass cutter, maybe? There has to be something."  
  
Nick grinned, "and you base this on what - your secret life as a cat- burglar?"  
  
Greg merely rolled his eyes, "I watch movies you know - like 'Entrapment' - that one with Sean Connery and my future wife, Catherine Zeta-Jones? Or that one with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo and the see-through dress?"  
  
"Future wife, eh? In your dreams, Greggo," Sara teased.  
  
"You betcha. In my dreams - her and Rene! Seriously though, it doesn't make sense."  
  
Nick nodded at Greg consideringly, "You're right. This doesn't add up - we've missed something, somewhere."  
  
"Well, let's go with what we have and wait for Grissom. Do you want to process this, and I'll go talk to Robbins, or do you want to go with?" Sara interrupted.  
  
"Go ahead. Greg can run the blood, get us some DNA and a blood type. I'll get this stuff listed -I'll try to lift some prints off the suctions here, and see if I can ID him, but get us another sample off the body, will you - just in case."  
  
"Sure thing. Catch you later, guys."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I'd like to be able to tell you he died from the fall, but he was on his way out before he hit the pavement Sara," Robbins greeted her as she walked into the morgue.  
  
"What are you talking about?" she snapped her latex gloves loudly, eyeing Robbins askance as she approached the man stretched out on the autopsy table.  
  
"You can see for yourself. There - just above his ribcage. Bullet wound. Someone shot him. Bullet went downwards, through a lung, nicked the spleen and lodged in his intestines. Of course, all his ribs are broken now, both legs, arms - the fall would have killed him on its own."  
  
"But he was still alive when he hit the pavement."  
  
"So, the fall contributed to his death, but wasn't the initial cause. This guy would have died from the gunshot wound."  
  
Sara sighed, "Well, this is great. Did you retrieve the bullet?"  
  
"Right here, waiting for you."  
  
"What do you make about the mark on his hand?"  
  
Robbins shrugged, "It looks like a strap."  
  
Sara grinned suddenly, "Right. Strap. Of course! Thanks Dr. Robbins - can I get the final report from you later?"  
  
Robbins nodded absently, already turning back to the body. "Don't forget the bullet."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke, why don't you come into the library with Grissom and I," Catherine knelt gingerly in front of the older man, trying to get him to focus on something other than his own pain. Warrick had informed them a few minutes ago that David was ready to move Audra out, and Catherine didn't want him standing there as his wife was wheeled out in a body bag.  
  
"Please, call me Willem," he replied, allowing her to lead him into the library. He didn't even look towards the empty safe, "Mr. van der Brucke is such a mouthful."  
  
"Fine, Willem. Thank you." Catherine indicated Grissom, who was at the safe fingerprinting the area, "This is Gil Grissom - you may have seen him arrive earlier? He'll need to talk with you. Why don't you sit here? Grissom, this is Willem van der Brucke."  
  
Grissom turned to the man and nodded at him, "I'm sorry for your loss. Do you feel up to going to the police station with Catherine and speaking with us some more? We need to find out as much as possible about the nature of your business trip; how many people know what you had in the safes at the hotel."  
  
"I didn't speak of it to anyone," Willem sighed, "I never do. How could something like this happen?"  
  
"I can't comment on our theories right now, but I think you're wife may have surprised - or been surprised - by a cat burglar."  
  
Catherine looked at Grissom in surprise - this was news to her. *Cat burglar*, she mouthed at Grissom, but he shook his head at her - clearly indicating he'd tell her later.  
  
"Brass, I'm going to finish up here with Warrick. Will you escort Catherine and Willem back to the station?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"You're never going to believe this," Sara muttered as she walked back into the lab where Nick was sitting, "our burglar? He was shot."  
  
Nick looked up, "Shot? Really? That's interesting. I figured out what caused the mark on his hand."  
  
"Yeah - so did I. Straps on the suction cup."  
  
"Keep on stealing my thunder Sara, and I won't be your friend anymore," Nick teased. "You may know it was the strap on the cup, but do you know why it's only on one hand?"  
  
Sara grinned, shrugging, "I'm sure you'll tell me."  
  
"Well, you see this?" he held up one of the cups, pointing out the heavy duty strapping to Sara; smiling when she squinted at it.  
  
"Looks like it's broken away on this side from the cup."  
  
"Didn't break away - it was sliced part way through. Someone tampered with it."  
  
"And?"  
  
Nick smiled, "Well, my theory is this, and it works better now that I know he was shot. I think he was working with someone. Someone who wanted him dead. They were responsible for the robbery / murder everyone else is at now. On their way down, his partner shot him."  
  
Sara nodded as she listened, "So, the blood we found on the outside of the building is his - he tried to get down, but couldn't. Maybe he passed out, stuck to the side of the hotel like spiderman. The strap on the left side was compromised. Our guy would have been like dead-weight, the strap would have broken."  
  
"He would have been hanging there by one hand and his feet - hence the bruising from the pressure of the strap. From what I've been able to get from it, it's full of epithelials and blood - so, his hand eventually came loose. He couldn't hang there by his feet - they came loose as well. He fell."  
  
"And his partner had the loot, and the tools of the trade." Sara grinned, "Sounds plausible to me."  
  
"I'm amazed those suckers - no pun intended, didn't come loose and fall with him," Nick muttered.  
  
"It's all about the suction, Nicky, all about the suction," Sara responded.  
  
Greg, walking into the evidence room where Sara and Nick were talking, started to laugh, "So many things in life are!"  
  
Nick grunted, "You've fallen in the gutter, man."  
  
"Champagne!" Greg chortled.  
  
______________  
  
Author's note: hey, hey, hey - now we're cooking with gas. Things are processing nicely. I forget who challenged me to quote Geek's signature over at www.sinceimetyou.com - but, there you go. Fun times, fun, fun times. 


	4. THEORIES

IV - THEORIES  
  
"Finding anything, Warrick?" Grissom's voice made the younger man jump.  
  
"Startled me," he muttered at Grissom's slight smile. "I've got some fingerprints from the safe - but they're probably our victims. Managed to find a couple of suspicious fibers in the interior hinge of the safe - tagged and bagged. Cath gone?"  
  
"Yeah. She went back with Brass and Mr. van der Brucke. I'm finished in the library. I'm still trying to figure out how our assailant got in."  
  
Warrick shrugged, sitting back on his haunches. "Maybe it was a set-up, or pre-planned. Mrs. van der Brucke is quite a bit younger than her husband. Did we ever get hold of the friend she was supposed to be meeting?" When Grissom shook his head, Warrick sighed. "Maybe she wasn't meeting her friend. Maybe she was having an affair, and was waiting for her lover. What if she let her murderer in? What if she knew him?"  
  
Grissom sighed and rubbed a hand backwards through his grey curls, "We think our supposed jumper was a cat burglar. We found some evidence to indicate this, and Nick and Sara are back at the lab working on it. I think it would be too much of a coincidence to have a cat burglar fall to his death the same night Mr. van der Brucke loses his wife and several million dollars worth of diamonds."  
  
"Did you find anything on him - like diamonds?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then how do you know he wasn't on his way up when he fell?"  
  
"Because we found blood above him, on the windows. The victims' blood?" Grissom shook his head, "We need to figure out how he got in."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Willows," Catherine snapped her cell phone open at the sudden ringing, barely breaking stride. "I've called her, and left a message Grissom. She hasn't called back yet. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll find out about insurance policies, everything else - suppose we should rule that out. I don't know - I'll ask him." She covered the phone with her hand, and turned to Brass, who was beside her. Mr. van der Brucke - Willem - had been taken to Brass' office, and left there with O'Reilly. Brass was heading to the lounge to get a couple cups of coffee, and Catherine was off to talk to Sara and Nick about 'the jumper' on Brass' recommendation.  
  
"Brass - did you get the surveillance tapes for the elevators and the lobby from Mr. Miles?"  
  
Brass grunted, "Tell him 20 years on the job, Cath."  
  
Catherine grinned as she brought the phone back to her mouth, "Affirmative. We have the tapes. I'm going to find Sara and Nick, see what they've got - Brass indicated the two cases might be linked, and I'm curious about that whole cat-burglar theory of yours. Have Nick test the blood he found against our vics? O-kay. When do you think you and Warrick will be heading back? Uh-huh. Right - looking for point of entry, yada yada yada. So, we'll see you soon."  
  
She shut her cell and dropped it into her pocket, "He'll be back soon."  
  
Brass shook his head in amusement, "I caught some of that. After you're finished with Nick and Sara, come back to my office and let me know. I think you should be there when we talk to van der Brucke - we can't rule him off as a suspect."  
  
Catherine sighed, "I don't think his shock is an act."  
  
Brass shrugged, "He's a good 20 years older than the late Mrs. van der Brucke. Maybe she was having an affair, and he found out. Maybe she was going to leave him and take half his company. Maybe she was a gold- digger."  
  
"And maybe she was a younger woman in love with an older man," Catherine inserted. "It happens all the time."  
  
"Yeah," Brass grunted dryly, "I'm beating the younger women off with a stick."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was trying to ignore the good natured bantering between Nick and Greg, because she knew showing her amusement would only egg them on to more obnoxious behavior. Instead, she attempted to bring the attention back to the case at hand, before the conversation disappeared into that strange guy- talk land of sexual innuendo and posturing.  
  
"So, Greggo. Hope you have something good for me?"  
  
The minute she saw the smirk on Greg's face, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. She felt herself flush slightly, quickly tacking on "Let me rephrase that!" much to Nick's amusement and Greg's dismay.  
  
"Greg - can you get your mind out of the gutter long enough to tell me you have some results on the blood for me?"  
  
Greg grinned cheekily at Sara and handed her the report in his hand, "It's Spiderman's blood. No question."  
  
Sara scanned the report and handed it to Nick, her brows furrowing in consternation. "You're theory is gathering merit, Nicky. So - I guess we'll be making a daytime trip back to Icarus to check out the side of the building in the sunlight. Maybe we'll see something we missed in the dark. The side of that hotel just became our crime scene."  
  
Nick picked up the suction cup with the broken strap again, a slight smile on his face, "It will be interesting to go back up there in the daytime. You scared of heights, Sidle?"  
  
"Ferris wheel heights? No. Eighty storey heights in an open air cage? We'll have to see."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Mr. Miles," Warrick's voice was calm and commanding, his annoyance at the twitchy man well-hidden behind his neutral demeanor, "we need to know if there is anyway - air vents, anything - that would allow a person on the outside of your building to get inside without cutting the glass."  
  
"I've told you, the only way to get into the building is through the entrances on the main level," the concierge was being particularly unhelpful. "I don't know how else you expect anyone to get into our hotel - unless the can fly."  
  
"Or crawl up the side of the wall," Grissom interjected. "Will you take us up to the roof, Mr. Miles?"  
  
The man sniffed, "I cannot. However, I will have our night maintenance manager take you there, if you wish. I need to stay available for our paying customers - I can't be traipsing around 80 stories above the city, looking for entrances I know are not there. I have a job to do."  
  
"So do we, Mr. Miles. So do we."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Sara, Nick. Just the people I need," Catherine breezed into the evidence room, smiling at Greg before getting right to the matter at hand, "Tell me about your DB - Brass says he's a cat-burglar."  
  
Sara grinned, "He didn't have nine lives."  
  
"Did Grissom tell you anything?" Nick asked.  
  
"Nope - zip. Brass told me a bit. You found suction cups, some blood on the outside of the building and he was dressed all in black. What else can you give me?"  
  
"He was shot," Nick smiled when Catherine gaped at him. "We think on the outside of the building. The blood on the outside of the building was his."  
  
"Robbins says the gunshot would have killed him regardless of the fall," Sara added. "The bullet is down in ballistics."  
  
"And someone tampered with his suction grips. One of the straps was sliced halfway through. If the strap hadn't broken away, he'd probably be still stuck to the building, dead as a door nail."  
  
Catherine blinked at Nick when he said this, and grimaced. "Pleasant. Can you imagine? You're in your room, upscale hotel, morning sun shining through the windows - you go to admire the view and hello! Dead man stuck to your window." Steepling her fingers, she tapped her lower jaw in amusement. "Why do you think he was shot outside the building?"  
  
"The nature of his wounds," Sara responded. "Nick didn't spot any blood until he was halfway down. Assuming Nick spotted the blood where our victim was shot, he only made it another 20 feet or so before he fell. I don't think he could have been shot inside and made it out and half way down the building."  
  
"Fair enough. Grissom thinks our DB is related to yours."  
  
"DB? I thought you and Warrick were investigating a robbery?"  
  
"We thought so too, Nick. Learned otherwise when we found our DB in her bedroom. Audra van der Brucke."  
  
Greg, who had been listening to them intently, whistled, "van der Brucke? Of the diamond van der Brucke's? I'd say you know what your pancake was after."  
  
Catherine just smiled grimly, "The safe in the penthouse library was emptied out, and so was her personal safe - several million dollars worth of diamonds and diamond jewelry. So, who do you think shot your guy?"  
  
"Probably the same person who shot yours. When Robbins gets the bullet out of yours, we'll get ballistics to compare 'em. Where're Grissom and Warrick?" Sara tilted her head to the side, looking out the doorway behind Catherine. "I haven't seen either of them since we got back."  
  
"Still processing. Listen, have you guys run prints yet?"  
  
"Next step," Nick responded, flashing the print files at Catherine. "We were just bouncing theories when you walked in."  
  
"Fine. Brass wants me back to help talk with Mr. van der Brucke about insurance; stuff like that. Would one of you check out the surveillance tapes from the penthouse elevator, service elevator and penthouse lobby? Time frame from 6:00 - when van der Brucke left for a business dinner - and focus on the time between 8:30 - 10:00."  
  
"I'll watch them," Nick offered.  
  
"I guess I'll run prints then," Sara muttered. "Does Grissom think Mr. van der Brucke is involved?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "In a case like this, the spouse has to be considered a suspect."  
  
"Especially since his wife is much younger than him - at least 20 years," Greg inserted. When Catherine shot him a questioning look, Greg shrugged, "She was a model until she married him. Page 34 - 38 - Peekaboo Lingerie's Christmas catalog, 1998. Pretty. Van der Brucke snagged himself a hottie trophy wife."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at Catherine, who just shook her head at Greg. Nick was grinning, "Greggo, you gotta get better reading material."  
  
Greg just laughed, "Why read, when you can look at the pictures?"  
  
__________  
  
Author's Note: We'll be getting into some more personal aspects of this story very soon - not next chapter, but most likely the one after. Thanks for your reading! Hope this story continues to intrigue. 


	5. VENTING

V - VENTING  
  
"So, what we need to find out from you Mr. Powers, is how many ways this hotel is accessible from the roof," Grissom looked at the night maintenance manager intently, his sharp blue gaze making the man squirm uncomfortably.  
  
"I'm not sure that I understand what you mean, Mr. Grissom," the man replied, "We've got the normal fire exits leading to the roof, but unless you had a master key you couldn't get from the roof into the building."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Key card locks - and there's only three key cards in the entire building that will work. I have one, the day manager has one, and our head of security has one. If someone needs to go to the roof, they need to go up with one of us, and the log needs to be signed. When I took your associate in the window cage earlier, he had to sign the log for access."  
  
"What's to prevent someone from tampering with the code, and breaking the lock?"  
  
"Well, nothing, I suppose. But we change the code every 12 hours, and have to recode the masters. It would take some doing."  
  
Warrick looked askance at Grissom, "What about air vents? Could someone repel down a vent and get into the hotel that way?"  
  
"This hotel was designed with the security of our clients in mind. We have a lot of VIPs who stay here. We have no air vents on the roof," Powers was shaking his head, "the only way to get in is from the roof, the only way to do that is with a key. Anyone tries to break in, we have alarms. We also have security cameras on all the doorways, so I don't see how it could happen."  
  
"You have to have vents somewhere. If they're not on the roof, where are they?" Grissom asked.  
  
Powers smiled, "Well, that's the beauty of our design. Each floor has its own separate air exchange system. All the vents are hidden within the façade of the building, and they're all on the side of the building - out back, between floors. Hardly noticeable from the street unless you knew what you were looking for."  
  
"Where're the vents for the penthouse?"  
  
"We have them hidden in the maintenance room for the floor, near the service elevator," Powers responded. "I can show you if you like."  
  
Warrick stepped out of the way, indicating with a sweeping arm for the maintenance manager to lead the way. Following Powers to the back of the penthouse where the service elevator was located, Grissom smiled at Warrick. "I have a bad feeling one of us is going to be crawling through air vents soon."  
  
Powers had come to halt in front of the well-hidden maintenance room, sliding his key card through the lock. "Neither of you will be crawling through the air vents here, at least not without squeezing." He flicked on the light as he stepped into the room, still talking to the men behind him. "The vent is -"  
  
"Right in the corner. I can see it. And the grid is lying on the floor," Grissom interrupted, turning to Warrick and smiling, "Well, we know how our guy got in and out."  
  
"It's a start," Warrick agreed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine knocked on the half open door to Brass' office before walking in, smiling as she noticed one of the coffees Brass had grabbed earlier was now loosely held in Willem van der Brucke's right hand.  
  
"Hey Catherine," Brass greeted, before he turned to O'Reilly. "Can you take the information that Mr. van der Brucke gave us on his insurance policies and start calling them for us? Thanks."  
  
Catherine slid easily into the empty chair O'Reilly had just vacated, "I can see you've started without me." She smiled at Brass easily, before turning to Mr. van der Brucke. He seemed a little calmer than he had earlier, and Catherine was unsure whether it was disbelief settling in or the effects of shock. Either way, for the time being it would make him easier to deal with.  
  
"Cath, I've spoken with Willem about the insurance policies and security measures he took when he transported the diamonds and jewelry, including the policies on his wife's personal assets. I thought I would wait for you to return before we got into more - personal - matters."  
  
"Listen Mr. van der Brucke - Willem - we do need to talk," Catherine's voice was gentle as she looked at the older man across from Brass. "We need to ask you questions - personal questions about your wife and your relationship."  
  
Van der Brucke sighed, "I imagine that's standard."  
  
"Unfortunately, it is," Catherine agreed. "What can you tell us about your relationship with your wife."  
  
Willem sighed, "She's my world. I didn't kill her. I didn't hire anyone to kill her. I didn't hire someone to steal my diamonds."  
  
"Did you have any enemies? Did she?"  
  
"No, everyone loved Audra," van der Brucke's voice was desolate. "She is - was - just a wonderful woman. I adored her."  
  
"You're quite a bit older than her, aren't you Mr. van der Brucke?" Brass interjected, "How long have you been married?"  
  
"Audra was 26 years younger than me - I know, it's a large age gap. People noticed, and I noticed it a lot at first as well. But for her, it was never an issue. We got married 2 years ago - when she was 24. Her parents weren't happy - I'm the same age as her father - but they've gotten over it."  
  
"Do you have any reason to believe that your wife may have been having an affair?" Brass' voice was neutral, but his expression regretful as he asked van der Brucke this painful question.  
  
Willem merely shook his head, "Audra was the sweetest woman in the world, and I have no doubt that she loved me as much as I loved her. I would sooner believe black is white than believe she would ever do anything that would hurt me in any way."  
  
Catherine watched the older man closely, trying to read his face. She was unable to see any deception, any prevarication of fact. Putting aside her normal cynicism, she believed that Willem van der Brucke had loved his young wife beyond reason. She hoped they would find nothing to indicate that she had not loved him the same way.  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke - Willem -" her voice was gentle, "I know these are hard questions; insensitive to your loss. I am sorry we have to ask them -"  
  
"And I understand why you do," he responded gracefully, his face sadder than any mans' should ever be, "I just want you to find who killed my wife. Find him. I don't care about anything else - diamonds can be replaced, but my wife -" suddenly he was crying, "my lovely Audra -"  
  
Brass shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at this sudden display of emotion, and Catherine had a hard time fighting back her own sudden tears, "Why don't you let me take you back to the hotel, Willem. If we need you for anything else, we can talk later."  
  
Van der Brucke shook his head in abject misery, "I cannot go back to the hotel room my wife was murdered in."  
  
Brass stood, "Of course not. Let me take you to the Palms. If you want to come back later in the day, we'll let you know what we're doing. I'm sure once you've had time to think, you might have some more information for us as well."  
  
Catherine stood with van der Brucke, her face sympathetic. Resting a gentle hand on his arm, she squeezed it softly, "We'll find the person who did this; I swear it."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Right. Got that, Grissom - we'll be there as soon as Cath is finished," Nick looked at his watch, grimacing when he realized it was 6:30 in the morning. "Sara and I need to find the maintenance guy and go down the side of the building in the window cage anyway, see if we can find something we missed."  
  
"Bring Greg with you to collect the samples we have here - some fibers, some finger prints. I'm authorizing doubles for everyone. Obviously, Mr. van der Brucke is still there?" At Nick's affirmative grunt, Grissom sighed, "If he's up to it, I wouldn't mind talking to him."  
  
"Okay. Listen, Grissom - I see Cath and Brass now. Van der Brucke's with them - let me catch up, tell Cath what's going and snag Greg. We'll be there soon - shall we bring coffee?"  
  
"Extra large, you know the way I like it. Extra large for Warrick too. It's been a long shift - and it's only getting longer."  
  
Nick smiled grimly at this, "Sleep is way overrated anyway. See you soon."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So - this is the Tahoe!" Greg's voice was gleeful as he slid into the back of the CSI vehicle, not attempting to hide his excitement at being called to the crime scene.  
  
"You've been in it before, Greg," Sara's tone was dry, and she grinned at Nick in amusement as they pulled out of the parking lot. Behind them, Catherine was driving with Mr. van der Brucke beside her. Brass had gone to hunt down O'Reilly and find out if he had managed to confirm the insurance information van der Brucke had provided.  
  
"I've been in it, sure - but never to go to a crime scene. I feel like I'm playing detective or something."  
  
"Not detective - CSI, Greg. Get the terminology right, man," Nick teased as he flipped on the radio.  
  
"Nick - c'mon! Play along, okay? I don't get out of the lab much, so humor me. You can be Briscoe from Law and Order, and I'll be Curtis. Sara - you can be Claire, the sexy DA."  
  
Sara laughed, "I think I'll be Sara, Nick will be Nick - and since you're in the back, you can be the insane guy we just arrested for disturbing the peace. How does that grab you?"  
  
"Fine. Piss on my parade," Greg grinned back. "And don't talk about grabbing me unless you mean it!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom and Warrick were waiting in the lobby when the rest of his team arrived. Catherine trailed in well behind the others, talking softly to Mr. van der Brucke. Grissom noted the older man's pallor. Even from 30 feet away, the man looked weighed down by grief. He appeared to have aged 20 years from the time Grissom last saw him, mere hours ago.  
  
"Yo, Griss! What's up, man?" Greg's exuberant voice caught Grissom's attention, and he looked at the younger man and tried not to smile.  
  
"Greg, can you tone it down a little?" he questioned dryly. "Cath is right behind you with the vics husband - show a little courtesy. I don't think he's as happy to be here as you are."  
  
Greg had the grace to look chagrined, and he turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, Catherine and Mr. van der Brucke were not that far behind. Nick clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy as he shifted uncomfortably to the side, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment. He smiled at Nick weakly, before looking miserably at his shoes.  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke, thanks for coming back," Grissom's tone was solicitous. "Let me just talk to my team here for a minute, and then we can talk. Is that okay with you?"  
  
Van der Brucke nodded mutely, "I'll go and check with the front desk, see if there are any messages for me - or for Audra."  
  
Grissom turned back to his team, nodding his thanks as Nick handed him a steaming coffee, "Okay guys. Warrick and I managed to pull some fibers and prints, and we've also found what we believe to be the entrance into the penthouse. Nick filled me in on our cat-burglar - still no hits on the prints?" At the negative shake of Nick's head, Grissom sighed, "Okay then, so we still don't know who our cat-burglar is."  
  
"But we do know he was shot by the same gun that shot Mrs. van der Brucke," Sara interrupted, "Robbie called on the cell on our way over. The bullets match."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow, "Well, that's good news, I suppose. Greg, stop looking so forlorn - he didn't hear you. So, Nick - you're going back up in the window cage, right?"  
  
Nick nodded at this, "Sar and I think the guy was shoot on the side of the building. We're both going up - two eyes being better than one, and all."  
  
Grissom frowned slightly, and turned to face Sara, "Wouldn't you rather -"  
  
Sara interrupted him, "Rather what? Crawl through an enclosed air vent? I think I'll chose heights over claustrophobia. Besides which, Nicky will catch me if I fall, right Nicky?" She shot a gap-toothed grin in his direction, and Grissom tried not to scowl.  
  
"Fine - take the headsets, and leave one for me - I want you guys on Frequency One. Warrick and I are both too wide to fit through the vents - so Cath, how do you feel about it?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "Horizontal right? No garbage thrown into it? I can deal, Grissom. Warrick and I have practice working in tight spaces, and I brought my jumpsuit." She grinned when she said this, blue eyes darting to Warrick. The younger man shot her an amused look, raising an eyebrow at her.  
  
"Okay then - did any one ever manage to get hold of Mrs. van der Brucke's friend? Marta, right?"  
  
"Brass was going to go to her place with O'Reilly after they run the insurance information and see if they can find her. She hasn't returned any phone calls," Catherine muttered. "I left my field kit in the car, so I better go get it. Walk with me Warrick, and tell me about this vent. Frequency 2 on the headsets, right Griss?"  
  
"And what do you want me to do, Grissom?" Greg asked nonchalantly, looking at the older man as if he wasn't mentally begging to be given something to do on site. Grissom looked at him intently for a few moments, before sighing.  
  
"I have some fiber samples for you to take back to the lab, and some prints we pulled from inside the safe," he tried not to smile at Greg's crestfallen expression before continuing, "but, since you're already here, you may as well stick around. Go with Sara and Nick, and see if you can find anything. Look at this as a training experience - and don't fall out of the cage."  
  
Greg smiled hugely at Grissom, "Thanks, Griss. You won't regret it!"  
  
Grissom watched the young man head towards the concierge with Sara and Nick, shaking his head. "I better not," he muttered before turning to look for Mr. van der Brucke. 


	6. UP ON THE ROOF

VI - UP ON THE ROOF  
  
Mr. Miles looked at the approaching CSIs in much the same manor he had less than 8 hours ago, frowning in agitation when Nick explained to them what they needed.  
  
"I was planning on having that side of the building cleaned today," Miles whined.  
  
Nick just grinned at him, "Well, it's a good thing you didn't - now, we don't have to charge you for tampering with a crime scene. May we use your window washing cage again?"  
  
Mr. Miles looked like he was ready to object, when Sara broke in, "The sooner we get the evidence collected, the sooner we're out of here."  
  
Miles sighed, "Fine then. You remember Mr. Powers?" he looked at Nick and tried not to scowl, "I'll get him to take you up."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom approached Mr. van der Brucke slowly, studying the man intently. He was sitting in a high backed arm chair to the side of the lobby, hands folded in his laps, staring blankly into space.  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke?" he kept his tone neutral, noticing the slight flicker in the man's eyes when he heard his name. Grissom came to a stop a few feet from him, "Thank you for coming in to speak with me. I'm sure Catherine and Brass already have asked you some of the questions I'm going to, so I apologize in advance."  
  
Van der Brucke sighed, "As I said to your colleagues Mr. Grissom, I will answer as many questions as you want me to, if it helps you find who killed my Audra."  
  
Grissom smiled grimly, and sat in an armchair next to van der Brucke's. Leaning forwards and too the side slightly, he propped his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped in front of him.  
  
"What time was Audra supposed to meet her friend?"  
  
"I left at 6:00. Marta was supposed to meet her around 7:30 -8:00."  
  
"Was Marta meeting her here, in the lobby? Or at a restaurant?"  
  
"No. Audra said Marta was going to have the concierge call up when she arrived. She wanted to see the penthouse."  
  
Grissom grabbed a little note book from his pocket, and quickly made a couple of notes. "I'm not sure if Marta ever arrived," he said, when van der Brucke glanced at his notebook, "and we haven't been able to reach her." He paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully, "I don't think your wife ever left the penthouse. The clothes laid out on the bed were not touched, and there were no other clothes around that would indicate she'd changed recently."  
  
A silence fell between the two men, Grissom making mental notes to speak with Mr. Miles again, and van der Brucke thinking about what Grissom had just revealed. "She wasn't supposed to be there."  
  
Grissom nodded, "I don't think your wife was a target, Mr. van der Brucke. I think she was an obstacle. The person who killed her was after your diamonds, and your wife got in the way." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, "As well as you can remember, who knew that Mrs. van der Brucke was meeting her friend tonight, and that you would be out on business."  
  
Van der Brucke shrugged, "Outside of Audra and I, the only other person who knew was Marta. She's the one that called to make the arrangements."  
  
"And how did your wife know Marta?"  
  
"They modeled together. They were room-mates in Paris. They've known each other for years," van der Brucke paused, closing his eyes against the sudden image of his wife's face. "That's were Audra and I met. In Paris. I actually knew Marta first - she's a little bit older than my wife."  
  
Grissom's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Were you and Marta involved?"  
  
Van der Brucke looked at Grissom, shaking his head. "I took her out a couple of times; just friendly dates. I thought she was too young for me -" he smiled grimly at that, "-and then I met Audra at a dinner party she had one night. She was definitely too young for me, but I fell. Hard."  
  
"How did Marta react?"  
  
"You mean, was she jealous?" van der Brucke's tone was self-depreciating, "She had her choice of men. She was fine - very happy for Audra. She's been a good friend, to both of us. Very supportive. Not a lot of people were, when our relationship first became public. I wasn't very supportive either, when it comes right down to it. I fell in love with a girl young enough to be my daughter. I was an older man, bachelor-for-life, married to my job. I had a reputation to think about, and I thought that no matter what I felt for Audra what she felt was just infatuation. I discounted her feelings, questioned them. How could a beautiful young woman like her fall for a man like me?" van der Brucke's question was rhetorical, his voice sad. "I fell in love with her the minute I laid eyes on her, but I fought it for two years. I regret that so much now - wasted time, when we could have been together."  
  
He looked at Grissom, eyes intent, "Do you know what it's like, Mr. Grissom, to want someone - to love someone - and to be too afraid to act on it?" He sighed when Grissom flinched slightly at his words, "I can see that you know what I'm talking about. I hope you'll take a word of advice from one who knows - life is too short for regrets, and love should never be turned away."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"You sure you're alright with this, Cath?" Warrick's voice sounded slightly tinny and muffled, coming as it was from behind Catherine and up the narrow shaft of the air vent. They had been escorted back to the penthouse by Mr. Powers, who was on his way to the roof with the rest of the team. Grissom was, presumably, still talking to Mr. van der Brucke.  
  
Catherine grunted as she wiggled forward slightly, adjusting her headset, before hollering back over her shoulder, "Turn your headset on, I can hardly hear you when you talk into the vent." The sudden static buzz of her headset made her grin.  
  
"Cath, that better?"  
  
"Loud and clear, Warrick."  
  
"You sure you're alright with this?"  
  
Catherine wiggled forward on her belly, "Just keep feeding me rope, Warrick. Our pancake couldn't have been a very large man, 'cause this is a tight fit." She saw a flash of light over her shoulder and grinned when she realized that Warrick would be on his knees, looking in the vent after her. "Quit looking at my ass, Warrick, and talk to me. Keep my mind off the enclosed space."  
  
Warrick grunted, "Since your ass is all I can see from this angle, that's gonna be hard to do Cath!"  
  
Catherine grinned, "Well, then, enjoy. You now have the perfect excuse to ogle." When Warrick didn't respond, Catherine rolled her eyes, "Warrick? I'm just teasing you, you know."  
  
"I wish you wouldn't," he responded. "What was that back in the lobby? That whole thing about you, me and tight spaces?"  
  
"You forget the time you forced me to repel down a garbage chute?"  
  
Warrick chuckled, "No one forces you to do anything, Cath. But you realize, if you keep coming out with comments like that, people may get the wrong idea."  
  
Catherine grunted as she slid forward another couple of feet, taking in the area immediately in front of her, looking for evidence. "Wrong idea? What wrong idea would that be?"  
  
"You're a born flirt, Cath."  
  
Catherine laughed, "That's not an answer. Am I giving you ideas?"  
  
Deafening static silence.  
  
"Warrick - am I giving you ideas?"  
  
"Do you want to be?"  
  
"Do you want me too?"  
  
Before Catherine could respond, her eyes narrowed, "I think I've found something."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Fibers - stuck on a screw head. Just a minute," she grunted, shifting carefully and tweezing the strands free, before dropping them in a small baggie. Holding the baggie against her flashlight, she grinned, "Navy blue. Looks like cotton." She moved forwards again, "How long is this shaft here? And I mean that in a non-flirtatious way."  
  
Even though she couldn't see him, she was pretty sure Warrick was rolling his eyes, "It's about 50 feet. You've made it in about 12."  
  
"At this rate, I'll be here all day. Listen, can we talk about what people may think later. You're distracting me."  
  
"Not as much as you're distracting me," Warrick muttered, "not as much as all."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Wow. This is pretty high," Sara looked over the edge of the window cage and grimaced as she quickly double checked to make sure the safety harness was securely attached to the cross bar.  
  
"Cool," Greg was standing in the corner of the cage, hand shading his eyes from the early morning sun as he scanned the city from this new perspective, "I can see the Trop from here. Looks different in the daylight."  
  
"Look at the building, not the streets," Nick admonished him, "We're roughly 40 stories above the blood stains I swabbed last night. Let's see if we can find any above that."  
  
Greg grinned, "Yes sir. So, our cat burglar climbed down this? That would take balls."  
  
Mr. Powers was at the controls, slowly lowering the cage as the three CSIs carefully examined the windows on the way down. Greg started singing under his breath,  
  
"When this old world starts getting me down And people are just too much for me to face I climb way up to the top of the stairs And all my cares just drift right into space On the roof, it's peaceful as can be And there the world below can't bother me Let me tell you now  
  
When I come home feelin' tired and beat I go up where the air is fresh and sweet - up on the roof - I get away from the hustling crowd And all that rat-race noise down in the street -up on the roof- On the roof, the only place I know Where you just have to wish to make it so Let's go up on the roof -up on the roof-  
  
At night the stars put on a show for free And, darling, you can share it all with me - I keep a-tellin' you  
  
Right smack dab in the middle of town I've found a paradise that's trouble proof -up on the roof- And if this world starts getting you down There's room enough for two Up on the roof -up on the roof- Up on the roof -up on the roof- Oh, come on, baby -up on the roof- Oh, come on, honey -up on the roof-  
  
Everything is all right -up on the roof "  
  
About half way through the song, Nick had joined in, and the two men sang as they looked for blood. Standing between them, Sara grinned.  
  
"Wow - guys. The Drifters. I'm impressed. Just don't start doing dance moves, and we'll all be fine," she turned to Nick. "I didn't know you could sing."  
  
"I am a man of many talents," Nick replied. "My entire family sings - we're like the Texas version of the von Trapps."  
  
A companionable silence fell between the three of them, as they continued to scan the windows. They were at the blood smear now, and Sara turned to Mr. Powers and asked him to stop the cage.  
  
"This is where he was shot," she muttered. "Look at the smear."  
  
"It looks like it dripped a little, down the window. Look beneath," Greg pointed out.  
  
"Absolutely right, Greg. It did run down the glass." Nick stood to the other side of the smear, studying it intently. "From the way the blood splattered, I'd say our shooter would have been about here - blood splattered away from him." He quickly opened his field kit and took out a cotton pad and a small spray bottle, spritzing the area in front of him in a two foot diameter. He smiled when the pad he ran over the area showed black. "Gun powder residue. Greg, take some pictures."  
  
Sara was swabbing the blood again, muttering to herself as she did so. Behind her, the click-whirr of the camera made her start, "Get all the blood you see, Greg. Hope we don't have flash back from the glass."  
  
Greg continued taking pictures, studying the windows of the hotel intently as he prepared each shot. "What's that?" he asked suddenly, turning to Nick.  
  
"What?" Nick stepped forward, and Greg pointed carefully to the black façade between the floors. To the side of the main smear, a small hole, barely noticeable, interrupted the smooth finish.  
  
Nick looked closer at it, before turning to grin at Greg. "Way to go, man. You've found a bullet. Looks like our shooter missed the first time."  
  
______________  
  
Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting, but things have been very hectic. Hope this still continues to intrigue. 


	7. TIGHT SPACES

VII - TIGHT SPACES  
  
"Grissom," the sudden loud sound of Brass' voice through the cell phone made Gil wince. "Yeah Brass. Catherine and Warrick are working on the venting; Nick and Sara are processing the side of the building. Greg's with them. I'm heading back to the lab in a bit to talk to Robbins about out bodies.  
  
"Yeah, I spoke with Mr. van der Brucke. I don't know if I learned anything useful yet or not. You find Marta? Uh-huh.Yeah. You bringing her back to the station, right? Right. The concierge - Mr. Miles - he's arranged for a driver to take van der Brucke to his new hotel," Grissom's tone turned slightly sarcastic, "he's all about client satisfaction. Yeah, Brass. Let me go talk to Warrick and Cath, tell them what's up and find out what's going on with Sara. See you soon."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine was about halfway through the venting shaft, mumbling to herself, when she heard Warrick greet Grissom through the static of her head set.  
  
"Hey Warrick - you tell Grissom to lose some weight. The next time someone has to crawl through a shaft or tubing, it's gonna be him," her tone was slightly breathless, and she smiled when Warrick's chuckle hit her ears.  
  
"I'm not telling Gris that, Catherine," his deep tone admonished her gently, "I'll let you do it when you get out. Gris wants to know how things are going."  
  
"Slowly," Catherine grunted, "Christ, this is a tight squeeze. Tell him I've found some fibers - I've got about 5 evidence bags already."  
  
"Will do." Warrick relayed the information to Grissom, "Cath - you're taking pictures right?"  
  
"No, I was born yesterday. What do you think?"  
  
"She's taking pictures, Gris," Warrick relayed. Catherine giggled.  
  
"Hey, Warrick - can you give me some more slack. I'm almost at the end of the rope here."  
  
"Sure thing, Cath. You should start feeling some fresh air soon. Another 20 feet or so, and you'll be at the end."  
  
"Great. And then I get to back out. Should be fun. Gris still there?"  
  
"Yeah, but he's heading up to the roof to get the extra headset - find out what's going on with everyone else. Then you're what Gris?" Catherine heard Grissom's muttered answer in the background, followed by Warrick's voice, "Then he's headed back to the office. Brass and O'Reilly are meeting him there with Marta."  
  
"Could you ask him how big our cat-burglar is? I'm still trying to figure out how he made it through the venting."  
  
"Give me a minute," Warrick turned to Grissom, hand covering the mouthpiece of his headset, "She's not having fun in there, Grissom. She wants to know how big the cat-burglar was. Says it's a tight fit, even for her."  
  
Grissom sighed, "Well, he wasn't very tall. I'd say no more than 5' 6" - slight stature."  
  
Warrick quickly relayed the information to Catherine.  
  
She snorted, "I know what our other suspect looks like, then. He'd have to be petite as well, so tell Grissom to get a police artist to draw a picture of a small man in a black mask and watch cap and put out an APB."  
  
Warrick just laughed, "You're a pistol, Catherine."  
  
"You don't know the half of it, Warrick."  
  
She continued moving slowly up the shaft, half listening to Warrick and Grissom, flashlight sweeping the silver insides of the venting. The material kept pinging and buckling under her slight weight, the noise echoing eerily around her, and she could feel a cool breeze blowing towards her down the shaft. The feel of the air on her face was refreshing, and she smiled. And that's when she saw if - two feet in front of her at the top of the shaft, several strands of dark brown hair fluttered in the breeze.  
  
"Warrick - I found some hair," she crowed happily, "stuck in a crease at the top of the shaft. It would have been ripped out - we'll have epithelials." She hummed to herself as she snapped a picture and quickly collected the strands into an evidence bag.  
  
"That's good, Cath. Every little bit helps, as Grissom would say. He's heading out - says he'll see us back at the lab."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg watched avidly as Nick carefully removed the bullet from the side of the hotel, grinning when it was dropped into a small evidence bag, "Good eyes, Greg."  
  
Beside Greg, Sara nudged him with her elbow, "It was worth bringing you out here after all," she teased, "first the singing and now finding the bullet."  
  
Greg blushed slightly at this, "Maybe Grissom will let me do more field work."  
  
"Why would I do that, Greg?"  
  
The sudden crackle of Grissom's voice over the headset made them all jump, and Greg and Sara both craned their necks upward. Nick just chuckled, "Geez, Gris. Don't you know it's not a good thing to make people jump when they're dangling in a cage forty levels above the ground?"  
  
Even through the headset, they could hear Grissom's slight frown, "Everyone all right?"  
  
"Yeah, no one's plummeted to their death yet, Grissom," Sara responded lightly. "You up on the roof?"  
  
"Where else would I be?" he sighed back. "Listen, I'm heading back to the lab. When you guys are finished, pack up and I'll meet you there. I was going to take Greg back with me, but seeing as you're not done yet I suppose he'll have to stay with you."  
  
Nick replied, "Fine with us. He's actually being useful." He winked at Greg when he said this, and Greg snorted at him. "He found a bullet - stuck in the fascia between floors."  
  
"Finding anything else?"  
  
"Just blood," Sara responded. "We're getting swabs."  
  
"Okay, then," Grissom sounded tense. "Hook up with Catherine and Warrick before you leave. Be careful."  
  
"Aren't you going to lean over the edge and wave goodbye to me?" Sara teased, forgetting for a moment that Greg and Nick were also there, with headsets on.  
  
Grissom cleared his throat, the sound sounding oddly like a growl through the ear pieces, "That's not funny, Sara."  
  
Sara grinned, "I think it's plenty funny, coaster boy. Catch you later."  
  
Nick shot her an amused look when Grissom muttered his goodbyes. "What was that?" he questioned, smiling when her eyes shot to his and she shrugged. "You flirting with Grissom, Sara?"  
  
"I wasn't flirting, Nick, I was teasing him," her tone was sharp, but her eyes quickly skipped away from him.  
  
"And the difference is?"  
  
She sighed, "You're the ladies man, you tell me."  
  
"Didn't that sound like flirting to you, Greggo?" Nick turned to the younger man, who was watching them both with a bemused expression on his face.  
  
"Uh, Nick. In case you haven't noticed, you're pissing her off. I'd shut up before she decides to pitch you out. It's a long way down." Greg winced when Sara punched him tightly in the arm, quickly adding, "And she wasn't flirting."  
  
Nick just laughed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I can see the end of the shaft," Catherine told Warrick happily. "Thank God! I can start backing out in a few minutes. I can't see a grate."  
  
"Maybe they didn't re-attach it when they exited the vent," Warrick responded. "Can you see it at the mouth of the shaft?"  
  
"No. I can't. Give me some more rope, would you?"  
  
"Don't get too close to the opening Cath, your 80 floors up, remember?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I'm in a horizontal shaft, so I don't know what you're worried about. Just hold on tight - 10 feet is all I need." She grunted as she moved forwards slowly, pushing her camera and field kit easily in front of her as she traversed the last several feet. The rectangular opening was indeed grate free, and Catherine could see no grate lying or propped in the mouth of the vent. "No grate," she muttered to Warrick. "They wouldn't have taken it with them, so where did it go?"  
  
"I don't know," he responded. "Are you sure there would be a grate?"  
  
"Well, there'd have to be something here to close it off," she responded. "Otherwise, what would keep birds out of the air exchange system? Flip channels on your head set for a second -ask Nick to check for us, since he's out there anyway. I'll wait."  
  
"No kidding. Okay, give me a minute," Warrick responded, quickly switching frequencies. "Nick - Sara - you guys there?"  
  
"Yo, Warrick!" Nick responded, "What's up?"  
  
"You still out in the cage?"  
  
"Yessir, but we're almost finished - we'll be heading up in a minute. What about you and Cath?"  
  
"She's at the end of the vent. Listen, do us a favor. Can you tell us what type of covering you can see for the air exchange systems between floors? Catherine says the shaft she's in is wide open."  
  
Nick cocked an eyebrow at Sara and Greg, and the three of them immediately began scanning the building between the floors. "We're looking now, Warrick. Greg - ask Mr. Powers what we should be looking for."  
  
Greg quickly turned to the man at the controls of the cage, telling him what they were looking for, following his hand when he pointed to a fine mesh black grate built into the fascia about 10 feet away from their cage.  
  
"It's a black mesh grate, built into the sides."  
  
"You catch that Warrick?"  
  
"Got it. Thanks man. Switching over to tell Catherine. See you soon."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Well, it's definitely not here," Catherine stated. "And why would they take it with them?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe they dropped it?"  
  
"From 80 floors up? Wouldn't someone have seen it fall? Found it near the dead guy when they came to check him out?" Catherine's tone was slightly incredulous, and she heard Warrick sigh through the headset.  
  
"Listen, Cath. I don't know, okay. Just hypothesizing here. Come on back, and we'll go and check it out. It was night time after all, and Greg says black mesh - maybe no one spotted it."  
  
"Okay. Fine. I'm coming out."  
  
It was quicker backing out of the vent shaft than it had been going in. For one thing, Catherine wasn't looking for evidence anymore, and could slide backwards faster. After being in the shaft for what seemed like hours, she was relieved to hear Warrick's voice echoing down the vent, "I can see your feet, Catherine."  
  
"Can you see my ass yet?"  
  
"Don't start!" She heard him laugh slightly and smiled. Her feet exited the grating first. She was almost all the way out when she suddenly pulled up sharply.  
  
"Ouch. Dammit!"  
  
Off to her side, Warrick crouched down and spoke over her shoulder, "What's the problem?"  
  
"I pushed myself up on my arms to soon, and I've gotten stuck on something sticking out the top of the vent. Probably a screw head." She twisted violently, trying to get free, cursing under her breath when it didn't happen. "Can you see what I'm stuck on?"  
  
"No, I'm off to the side here. Can you lower yourself at all?"  
  
"No, dammit. I'm hung up. How much further until I'm all the way out?"  
  
Warrick stood and looked at the open shaft. Catherine's legs and butt were all the way out, knees propping her up slightly from the floor. "You're out to about your waist."  
  
"Yeah, well - I'm giving myself a wedgie here. You think you can reach in and find out what I'm caught on?"  
  
"I can try. You caught up on the right or the left side?"  
  
"Middle," Catherine responded. Warrick crouched beside her again, admonishing her to quit moving. She felt his arms brush up her back as he reached into the shaft, feeling for whatever had snagged her.  
  
"I can't see what I'm doing here, but I can feel where the material is bunching. It's right between your shoulder blades."  
  
"Can you get it?"  
  
Warrick grunted, reaching in further, coming up empty. "Can't get it from this angle. Give me a second." He stood up and stretched, his gaze traveling over Catherine's tiny frame - what he could see of it. He tried not to grin when he saw that she did - indeed - have a wedgie.  
  
Catherine wiggled, pulling the material even tighter. "Quit looking at my ass, and get me out of here."  
  
Warrick crouched down again, smiling into the shaft, "I thought you wanted me looking at you." He grinned when she grunted, "Listen. I'm going to have to stretch out here. Lower yourself as much as you can, and brace your knees on the floor. I'll have to see if I can reach it from above you."  
  
"Just don't squish me."  
  
Warrick sighed, "This isn't gonna look too good if someone walks in on us."  
  
"Just shut up and do it, Warrick."  
  
Warrick slid in behind Catherine, stretching his length against her, chest pressing into her back. "Too heavy?"  
  
"No, no. It's fine," she sighed. Warrick pressed his face into the middle of her back, arms stretching up the bunched material. Through the Forensics jumpsuit, he could feel her warmth burning into him and smell her perfume. Closing his eyes against the sudden heat that enveloped. He was pretty sure Catherine would be able to feel the sudden rapid beating of his heart pressed against her back.  
  
"Still can't get it. I have to slide up a bit more, and I don't know if I have the room."  
  
Catherine sighed, rather shakily, as Warrick inched upwards a little more. His entire body from the waist up was pressed firmly into her, and she could feel his muscular legs propping hers slightly as he strained to free her. Beneath her, thin metal of the vent buckled musically.  
  
"I guess I can tell Grissom we're really experienced with tight spaces, now," she joked, breathlessly, and tried not to gasp when she felt Warrick's warm huff of laughter through her jumpsuit.  
  
"You are in no position to be teasing me right now," Warrick admonished softly.  
  
"I'm in the perfect position - - - to be teasing you now, Warrick," Catherine responded, pausing just long enough to make him think. She smiled when she heard the small hiss of breath Warrick released through his teeth. His fingers were pulling at the material on her uniform, and his heart was thundering against her back. Sliding one of his arms just under hers, he twisted ever so slightly to the side.  
  
"I've almost got it," he whispered, before murmuring softly, "you keep talking like that, and I'll think you mean it."  
  
"How do you know I don't," Catherine retorted just as softly.  
  
She could tell her answer had caught him by surprise, and she grinned suddenly. Despite the fact she was stuck in a ventilation shaft, she felt great. She breathed happily when she felt the material finally give as Warrick released her.  
  
"Got it," he muttered as he began sliding backwards. Once he was out of the shaft, he kneeled behind her and helped her slide out as well, dragging her field kit and camera with her, helping her to his feet as he stood as well.  
  
He was looking at her with a slightly dazed-slightly bemused expression on his face, and Catherine smiled at him in the flickering light of the maintenance closet. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck in a shaft with," she said softly, "but thanks for getting me out. It was getting rather - hot - in there."  
  
"And whose fault was that?" Warrick responded, his slightly husky voice betraying the thoughts swimming around in his head.  
  
He almost died of shock when Catherine stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek, before whispering in his ear, "I blame all the heat on you, Warrick. Now, let's go find everyone else - see if they're finished yet before going back to the lab."  
  
_____________  
  
Author's Note: Nice long chapter today, to make up for not posting in a while. Not a lot of Grissom in this one, but I hope the Catherine / Warrick vent situation made it worthwhile. That was a fun one to write. 


	8. MYSTERY, GIRL

VIII - MYSTERY, GIRL  
  
The slow ascent back to the rooftop had begun. Between the three of them, they had collected several swabs of blood, had taken more than a dozen photos, and had found a bullet. Greg was standing in the middle of the cage, a beatific expression on his face as he surveyed Las Vegas, and Sara knew he was thinking about the bullet he had found.  
  
To her right, Nick was talking to Mr. Powers, the night maintenance manager. His deep Texas drawl was getting carried away in the wind, but she smiled when he clapped Powers on the shoulder in a congenial way, and leaned back comfortably against the cage.  
  
Sara herself was watching the side of the building as they slowly moved upwards, hands shielding her eyes from the sun glaring off the windows. The glass was dark black and shiny, melding almost seamlessly with the black fascia between the floors. The black mesh grates that indicated where the air exchange vents were located were barely visible.  
  
Her eyes narrowed briefly as they slowly passed one at closer range, eyes quickly scanning the mesh and frame. "Stop the cage!" she turned quickly to Nick and Powers, "stop the cage! Nick - come check this out."  
  
Straightening up, Nick took two steps towards her, pulling the brim of his ball cap down as he leaned towards the grating she was pointing at. She grinned at him when he raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
"That's interesting," he muttered. "Greg. Come here - take a look at this, and tell us what you see."  
  
Sara stepped slightly to the right, arms crossed and watched as Greg looked intently at the air shaft.  
  
"It's the venting," he stated the obvious, " black mesh - fairly heavy duty." He looked at Sara and then at Nick, confusion knotting his brows. "What am I missing?"  
  
"It's attached to the inside of the vent."  
  
Greg looked at Nick when he said this, before turning back to the grate. The outer edges were folded in, and screwed into the vent shaft from the inside. "If it's attached to the inside of the vent, how did our cat- burglar manage to detach it last night?"  
  
Nick grinned widely at Greg, before turning to wink at Sara. "Exactly, Greggo. We'll make a CSI of you yet."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Warrick were waiting down in the lobby when Nick, Sara and Greg stepped out of the main elevator. Much to Mr. Miles dismay, both of them were sporting their "Forensics" jackets, casually leaning against a large marble pillar right near the main entrance.  
  
"Do you need to wait right here?" he was hissing at them. "Can't you go and sit in the restaurant or something?"  
  
Catherine smiled at him wickedly, enjoying his discomfort, "Mr. Miles, I suggest you relax. Our boss told us to stay here and wait for our team, and that's what we're doing."  
  
Warrick rolled his eyes, mouthing at Catherine overtop the small man's head, "Boss?", and making a mental note to tease her about that later. In all their years of working together, he had never heard Catherine call Grissom that. Catherine just grinned at him.  
  
"Why are you still even here, Mr. Miles? I thought you told us last night you're the night time concierge. Hasn't the day time guy come in yet?" Warrick's tone was cool as he crossed his arms and winked at Catherine.  
  
"I will remain to answer any questions you may have. I believe it's only right, since I was here when the incident occurred," Miles replied huffily, and Catherine's blue eyes snapped at him.  
  
"Incident?" her voice raised slightly at this, "the wife of one of the richest men in the world was murdered by a cat burglar in your penthouse. That's more than an incident!"  
  
"Hey Cath," Nick's voice broke in, and he shot Warrick a grin before turning to Miles, "Mr. Miles! Just the man we needed to talk to."  
  
Miles sighed in agitation and turned to face Nick, scowling, "What now?"  
  
"We were just wondering if there's been any recent maintenance done in the ducts between the penthouse and the floor beneath it."  
  
Miles looked put off for a second, a sudden frown creasing his eyes, "Why does this concern you?"  
  
Nick shrugged, "Leave no stone unturned. It's just so we can eliminate hotel employees who may have a legitimate reason for being in the ducts off our list of suspects."  
  
Catherine looked at Nick curiously for a second, before turning her gaze to Sara. Sara just shrugged, but her eyes and the tight smile on her face told Catherine something was up.  
  
"That's right, Mr. Miles," Catherine inserted, "Warrick and I managed to collect several fiber samples - we need to be able to trace where they came from. It makes our job a whole lot easier when we can narrow our focus to what doesn't belong, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Fine," Miles huffed, "I'm sure Powers told you we keep logs for that type of maintenance. I'll get him to release them to you."  
  
Nick flashed a charming smile, "Why thank you. Powers said you'd do that - he's already gone to get the books for us. As soon as we get them, we'll be on our way."  
  
The promise of the CSIs leaving the building seemed to mollify the man somewhat, and he minced back to the front desk when he saw Powers step behind it and into the main office.  
  
Warrick watched his retreating back with a small frown, "I really dislike that man."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was sitting in the break room when the rest of his team arrived, going over Dr. Robbins autopsy reports, comparing what he was reading to the crime scene photos he had spread over the table. Sara grimaced when she saw the photo of Audra van der Brucke, semi-nude and lying in a pool of her own blood. Grissom was eating a smoked meat sandwich, munching thoughtfully as he looked from the report to the pictures and back again.  
  
"Great lunchtime reading material, Griss," Greg muttered, paling slightly at the pictures.  
  
Grissom merely raised an eyebrow at him, "There's something here I'm just not getting. Glad you guys are back. Greg - don't you have samples you should be running?"  
  
"All work and no play makes Greg a dull boy," he muttered darkly. "Can I at least pour myself a cup of coffee before I head off to the dungeon?"  
  
Grissom half-smiled, "Actually, you don't need to go right away. You were at the crime scene - sit down with the rest of us."  
  
Greg perked up at this, "Really?"  
  
"Didn't Nick say you found the bullet?"  
  
Greg nodded, and Grissom continued, "Well, then - you can sit down with us. Tell me what you guys have got."  
  
Catherine looked at Warrick, before turning back to Grissom. "We found some fibers in the venting, dark materials - several samples. We've also got hair that was wrapped around a screw head - probably pulled by the roots, so good possibility of epithelials. And we got a missing grate."  
  
Sara smiled at this, "We have several blood swabs, a bullet, and an interesting theory on a missing grate."  
  
"What's the theory?"  
  
"Our cat burglar was helped by someone on the inside - a hotel employee," Sara replied smugly. "The grating on all the air vents can only be removed from inside the actual vent - helps the grates blend seamlessly into the fascia between floors. Assuming our cat burglar went up the side to get in the building, the grate would have to have been removed prior to the break- in."  
  
Nick grinned, "And I've got the maintenance logs from Icarus - any maintenance done in the vents between the penthouse and the floor beneath it will be indicated in the books."  
  
Grissom nodded, "It's a good start."  
  
Warrick suddenly inserted, "Weren't you supposed to be talking to the lady our female vic was supposed to meet for dinner? Marta what's-her-name?"  
  
"She's overwrought," Grissom stated. "Brass has her down in his office - she took a couple of tranquilizers before he brought her in, but they haven't appeared to calm her down. We're going to try talking to her again in a little while."  
  
"Have we cleared Mr. van der Brucke off our suspect list?" Greg asked suddenly.  
  
Grissom shook his head, "Officially? No. But I don't think he did it."  
  
"Neither do I," Catherine offered.  
  
Greg looked from one to the other blankly, "Why not?"  
  
"I hate to say it, but it's just a feeling I have," Grissom admitted. "He loved her."  
  
"But did she love him, or was he just a wallet?" Nick interjected. "I mean, you have to ask - she was a lot younger than him. Maybe she was planning on leaving him - taking him for half of everything - he found out about it, and arranged a little robbery to cloud his involvement?"  
  
"We'll look at that. It's a viable question," Grissom agreed, "but I don't think that's what happened."  
  
"And who cares how much older he was than her? If she loved him, and he loved her, it's irrelevant," Sara added.  
  
Catherine smirked at this, "I agree - age is irrelevant here. Younger women and older men - happens all the time. It's very acceptable nowadays."  
  
"And it doesn't bother you?" Greg teased "If all the older men are chasing around after younger women, who does that leave for you, Cath?"  
  
Catherine smiled as she reached forward and patted his cheek, "Why - the younger men, of course."  
  
Nick grinned, "I have a sudden urge to watch 'The Graduate' now."  
  
"Or, at the very least, listen to some Simon and Garfunkel," Warrick added.  
  
"As long as it's not 'Harold and Maude'. Good movie, but the age difference there is just a lee-tle to much," Greg teased. "Although, Cat Stevens might be a good way to calm down the hormones."  
  
"Can we get back on track, here?" Grissom suddenly broke into the conversation. "Marta should be fine to talk to soon. Sara - you want to come with me?" He looked at his watch, "The rest of you, go home. Greg - you can start processing the DNA this afternoon - I want everyone back here at 4:00."  
  
Nick stood and stretched, "Sure thing, Grissom. But I was Sara's ride in, remember? How's she gonna get home after you talk to Marta?"  
  
"Grissom can drive me - right, Grissom?"  
  
Grissom nodded absently, "Yeah - I'll take you back to your place."  
  
"Her car's at my place."  
  
Grissom looked at Nick in irritation, "Fine - I'll take her to your place."  
  
"Cool," Nick grinned, "maybe we can catch the rest of Manhunter, if you're not too late. I'll keep it in the DVD."  
  
Sara shook her head at him, "The only thing I'll be catching is some zzz's. The movie will keep for another time. We'd barely started it, anyways."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warrick walked out of the lab with Catherine, enjoying the soft click of her heels as she walked beside him.  
  
"So - I guess I'll catch you later this afternoon then, eh Cath?" She was parked right beside him, and he opened the door to her Tahoe courteously when they reached their vehicles, smiling as she slid into the driver's seat.  
  
"I hate it when Grissom does stuff like this," she muttered as she looked at her watch, "It's 12:00 - am I supposed to go home and sleep when I have to be back here in four hours?" She suddenly grinned up at him. "Want to come to my place for lunch? Lindsey's been asking for you, and she doesn't have any school today. She'd be so happy to see you."  
  
"Your new babysitter working out?"  
  
"Like a dream!" Catherine responded, "It's nice to have someone come to my place, instead of me having to cart Lindsey around. Lindsey's a lot happier. So - you coming?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "Sure. Why not? I won't get any sleep this late in the day."  
  
Catherine grinned, "Good. So - hop in. I'll bring you back in one piece - if you want me to."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Warrick walked over to the other side of the car and slid in, "You're such a flirt."  
  
"You know you love it," she responded as she pulled out of the parking lot and flipped on her radio.  
  
Warrick laughed, "So, you like younger men?"  
  
"Not younger men," Catherine responded, "a younger man."  
  
Roy Orbison was singing in the background,  
  
~Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand  
  
Take me to some twilight land  
  
Where all but love is grey  
  
Where I can't find my way  
  
Without her as my guide  
  
Night falls I'm cast beneath here spell  
  
Daylight comes our heaven torn to hell  
  
Am I left to burn  
  
And burn eternally  
  
She's a mystery to me  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
In the night of love words tangled in her hair  
  
Words soon to disappear  
  
A love so sharp it cut like a switchblade to my heart  
  
Words tearing me apart  
  
She tears again my bleeding heart  
  
I want to run she's pulling me apart  
  
Fallen angel cries  
  
Then I just melt away  
  
She's a mystery to me  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
Haunted by her side is the darkness in her eyes  
  
That so enslaves me  
  
But if my love is blind then I don't want to see  
  
She's a mystery to me  
  
Night falls I'm cast beneath her spell  
  
Daylight comes our heaven torn to hell  
  
Am I left to burn  
  
And burn eternally  
  
She's a mystery to me  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
She's a mystery girl  
  
She's a mystery girl ~  
  
Warrick smiled as he listened to the song, reaching out and taking Catherine's free hand in his own.  
  
"Not that much younger," he responded softly, squeezing her hand when she smiled.  
  
________________________  
  
Author's Note; the song is Mystery Girl. Totally love it! 


	9. LIVE FOREVER

IX - LIVE FOREVER  
  
Marta Fitzroy was a piece of work. Brass had a serious dislike for the woman, and, after spending less than an hour with her, had already chewed through a whole pack of Trident gum and was now pounding back gummie bears like there was no tomorrow - anything to keep his mouth busy. If he wasn't chewing on something, he had a feeling he would start swearing - and would just never stop.  
  
Under normal circumstances, Brass might have found this slight woman attractive. He supposed she was pretty enough, in the highly artificial way only a woman who has had too much plastic surgery can be, but the pinched look around her mouth was really starting to annoy him. As were her weepy statements about the death of Audra van der Brucke, which - oddly enough - produced no tears from the woman. Perhaps she had had her tear ducts permanently damaged during her last eye-lift.  
  
When he heard the slightly uneven gait of Grissom's shoes echoing down the hallway, he jumped to his feet in relief. He actually felt like hugging the man, but better sense prevailed. The happy look on his face must have given away his delight at seeing Grissom however. Sara, who had come with Grissom, shot him a highly amused look.  
  
"Grissom - Sara. Glad you're here. I think Ms. Fitzroy here is finally calm enough to speak with us," Brass tried to keep the relief out of his voice, but knew he failed miserably.  
  
Upon hearing her name, Marta rose to her feet and gracefully slid to Brass' side, smiling bravely at Grissom as she artfully dabbed at her eyes with a pristine hanky.  
  
"Mr. Grissom, I'm feeling much better now. I am ready to talk to you about Audra - but I promise you, I don't know much."  
  
Grissom nodded at her, "You might know more than you realize Ms. Fitzroy. Let's move this down to Interview Room 1. Captain Brass and Ms. Sidle -" he indicated Sara beside him, "will be joining us."  
  
"Whatever you say, Mr. Grissom," Marta murmured. She managed to artfully squeeze in beside him when he turned, claiming his elbow as if he were her escort as they headed down the hallway, leaving Sara and Brass in her wake. Sara rolled her eyes at Brass, muttering under her breath, "She seems all shook up!"  
  
Brass grunted back, "You ain't seen nothing yet!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Lindsey-lou, how's my favorite girl?" Warrick laughed as Lindsey launched herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his neck and waist like a little monkey.  
  
"My and 'Nessa are going to see a movie later. And my best friend Mindy and her mommy are coming with us. I love it when we don't have school - and mommy said maybe this weekend we could go and get a doggy from the Humane Society, right mommy? And we finally finished dec'rating my bedroom - it's all Barbie now - wanna see? And -"  
  
Catherine was laughing, "Lindsey - honey! Give Warrick time to respond to you - you're going to scare him away with all that babbling."  
  
Lindsey look chastened for all of two seconds, before starting again, "Am I making you dizzy, Warrick? Mommy says sometimes I make her dizzier than a tormato-"  
  
"Tornado, Lyns," Catherine interrupted.  
  
Lyndsey rolled her eyes at her mom, "Whatever, mommy - a tornado, because I talk too much!"  
  
"You talk just right, Lyndsey-lou," Warrick interjected. "So, wanna show me your room?  
  
"Yeah! Did I tell you it was all Barbie? Even my bedsheets! Even my lamp! Even my wallpaper -" Lyndsey's happy voice disappeared down the hallway, and Catherine listened to Warrick's deep rumblings in amusement. The man would go into shock when he was assaulted by the pink that was Lyndsey's room. Catherine imagined he would have nightmares about it for weeks.  
  
Turning to Vanessa, her new in-home babysitter, she grinned. Vanessa was staring at the doorway Lynds and Warrick had just walked through, and if the love-struck look on her face was anything to go by, she was wondering what it would be like to show Warrick *her* bedroom. "So, Vanessa, Lyndsey said something about a movie?"  
  
Vanessa snapped her gaze at Catherine, grinning sheepishly, "Sorry, Catherine - I was just, uh."  
  
"Admiring the view?" Catherine smirked, "Don't worry - I do it all the time. About the movie - I hope you don't mind? Jennifer called and invited us to go with her and Mindy to see a special showing of Monster's Inc. at the repertory cinema." Vanessa looked at her watch, "and they should be here any minute to pick us up. I was going to leave you a note."  
  
Catherine grinned, "Well, far be it from me to say no to Monster's Inc. So, still enjoying the job?"  
  
Vanessa grinned, "Sure am. Lyndsey's a sweet kid, and I like the lo-ooo- oong hours."  
  
"I promise, tomorrow will be normal. I have the day off after shift tonight, and you'll be free until Sunday evening."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Catherine. Lyndsey and I have plans for the evening - involving a Toy Story marathon and lots of buttered popcorn. Are you really getting a puppy?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "Well, Lyndsey seems to think so. I wanted to run it by you first, since you'll have to be responsible for it when I'm at work."  
  
"I love puppies. And since I can't have one in my apartment, having one at your place sounds just about perfect," she was still grinning as she heard the honking car, "Sounds like Mindy and her mom are here. Lyndsey!!!"  
  
"Coming - 'bye Warrick!" the little girl swept into the kitchen at a dead run, quickly kissing her mom before grabbing Vanessa's hands, "Bye Mommy! C'mon, c'mon' c'mon!"  
  
Catherine watched the door slam behind Lyndsey, turning to smile at Warrick when she heard his chuckle behind her.  
  
"That girl is all go," he commented. "I think the pink that is her room has got her on a permanent sugar-high." He sighed as he stepped into her kitchen and folded his tall frame onto a small kitchen chair, smiling at Catherine. "You realize, Lyndsey's already named her dog."  
  
"How can she name something she doesn't even have yet?" Catherine rebutted, as she walked to the fridge and looked in it grimly. "What do you want for lunch?"  
  
"Nothing in your fridge if the look on your face is anything to go by," Warrick teased. "You have cheese singles and salsa?" At Catherine's nod, he continued, "Good - let me make you my grams' famous grilled-cheese and salsa sandwiches. She's naming the dog Spot."  
  
Catherine chuckled as she grabbed the cheese and salsa, "Spot? What if the dog is a solid color, like brown or something?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "I wouldn't worry about it. She's planning on dying the dog pink to match her room."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"No - I never had plans to meet Audra at all!" Marta denied, blinking furiously. She gazed appealingly at Grissom, her dainty hands fluttering around her collarbones, "I was home all night last night."  
  
"Mr. van der Brucke says Audra was meeting you to go shopping. And if you were home all night, why didn't you answer your phone? We called you several times."  
  
Audra shrugged, "I went to bed early, and I probably didn't hear it. But Audra and I didn't have plans. We spoke several times yesterday, but I was supposed to meet her tonight for dinner."  
  
"Can you tell us why Marta would tell her husband she was meeting you for dinner?"  
  
Audra blinked widely at Grissom, "I - I don't know. You don't think she was having an affair or anything, do you?"  
  
Over the back of her head, Brass rolled his eyes at Sara. Grissom shook his head, "I don't know. Was she?"  
  
Audra shrugged daintily, "Willem is a wonderful man, but he *is* quite a bit older than Marta. Maybe she got - bored. Sexually, I mean."  
  
Brass sighed loudly at this, "I think that's it for now, Ms. Fitzroy. If you can think of anything else, you'll let us know?"  
  
Marta turned to Brass and smiled brilliantly at him, "Absolutely. I can't imagine what poor Willem is going through right now. We need to find Audra's killer."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes again at this, sighing abruptly as she stood up and rubbed her hands on the legs of her jeans. "We may need to talk to you again, so please don't leave Las Vegas."  
  
Audra trilled a slight laugh, "Leave Las Vegas? Why on earth would I do that?"  
  
As she stepped out of the interview room and started walking down the hallway Brass grumped, "She's phonier than a three-dollar bill from the planet Neptune."  
  
Grissom looked surprised at this, "Really? You think she was lying?"  
  
Brass shrugged, "I don't know if she was lying about dinner with Audra or not, but she was lying about being her friend."  
  
Grissom turned to look at Sara, who smiled grimly, "No tears."  
  
"Yeah," Brass muttered, "her histrionics were full of sound and fury, signifying - what?"  
  
Sara suddenly grinned, "Quoting Shakespeare now, Brass. You've been hanging with Grissom too long."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"That was the best grilled cheese sandwich ever!" Catherine sighed contentedly as she and Warrick trudged into her living room.  
  
Warrick grinned, "Glad you like it. That was my favorite meal as a kid. I'd come home from school after a hard day, and my Grams would always be ready to make me one - a little bread, two slices of cheese, and salsa grilled in the middle - perfection every time!" He walked over to her CD and DVD collection, scanning the titles and smiling, "Boogie Nights? Tsk, tsk, Catherine."  
  
Catherine laughed, "I take it you've seen it, then?"  
  
"No - actually. I haven't."  
  
"Well, I have to warn you - if you like Rick Springfield and you watch this movie you'll never be able to listen to Jesse's Girl again without laughing."  
  
"I laugh when I hear that song now - 80s dreck," Warrick teased. "So - it's 1:30. We have to be back at work by 4:00. Want to watch a movie?"  
  
"Sure," Catherine yawned, "Can I pick it?"  
  
"You going to make me watch a chick-flick?"  
  
"Yeah. You mind?" Catherine sauntered over to him and scanned the movies, quickly pulling out one still wrapped in plastic. "I had to special order this one - just came in a few days ago." She flashed the film at Warrick, "Timothy Hutton and Kelly McGillis - Made in Heaven. All about finding your soulmate. So - wanna watch it with me?"  
  
Warrick smiled, "You going to cry at the ending?"  
  
"Probably," Catherine cheerfully responded, "and I may need your shoulder when I do it."  
  
"By all means, then, Cath. By all means."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom sighed as Sara fidgeted in the seat beside him, adjusting her seat belt and playing with the automatic door lock as they pulled out of the parking lot at work. The midday sun was ferociously hot, and Grissom could feel a tension headache just itching to turn into a full-fledged migraine.  
  
"Something bothering you?" Sara asked suddenly, turning to stare at him. In his peripheral vision he could see the set of her mouth as she frowned at him. Obviously, she had picked up on his tension.  
  
Grissom shrugged and continued driving, "I'm just at a loss as far as this case goes."  
  
"A loss how?" Sara responded.  
  
"I believed Mr. van der Brucke when he said that Audra wasn't having an affair; but if she wasn't meeting Marta, who was she meeting? Why would she lie to him?"  
  
"Are you so sure Audra did?"  
  
"You really think Marta was lying?"  
  
It was Sara's turn to shrug, "Maybe. I didn't like her all that much - and before you tell me evidence and not gut - what evidence do we have she was telling the truth?"  
  
Grissom mulled this over in his head, consideringly, "None. But it wouldn't be unheard of if she was. Younger woman - older man. The temptation is obviously there."  
  
"Why?" Sara retorted, "Don't you think younger women are capable of committing to older men, without having to resort to little sexual flings on the side?"  
  
Her question caught Grissom off guard. "I didn't say that."  
  
"No - but you said the temptation for her to have an affair would be there because her husband is so much older than her. Frankly, I saw Mr. van der Brucke - he's in good shape for an older man. Very debonair, if you ask me. I'm sure he would have no problems - servicing - his wife."  
  
Grissom felt his hands tighten on the steering wheel at her words, wondering at the hidden anger in them, "Something bothering you?"  
  
Sara sighed, "Yes. No. I don't know. I'm sorry if I was being crude, but sometimes men are so dense it's unbelievable." When Grissom didn't respond, she continued, "I mean, you and Brass; Nick, Warrick and Greg - you've all made comments at one time or another tonight about the age difference. Frankly, I think it's wrong for you to be questioning the victims integrity in all this when she isn't even here to defend herself. You all find it perfectly acceptable that a man her husband's age could love her - why is it so unbelievable she loved him back? You have no proof to suggest otherwise."  
  
Grissom grimaced, "You're right. We have no proof - and until we can find evidence one way or the other, I'll try to keep an open mind."  
  
"That would be a beginning," Sara retorted softly. "Younger women fall in love with older men all the time. I admire Mr. van der Brucke for having the courage to accept what Audra was offering."  
  
They rode in silence for a few miles, before Sara suddenly reached forwards and snapped on the radio. Grissom had a Queen CD in his player, and he smiled as Sara started pounding the forward button, looking for a song she recognized.  
  
~There's no time for us  
  
There's no place for us  
  
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us?  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Oh ooo oh  
  
There's no chance for us  
  
It's all decided for us  
  
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Who dares to love forever,  
  
Oh oo woh, when love must die?  
  
But touch my tears with your lips  
  
Touch my world with your fingertips  
  
And we can have forever  
  
And we can love forever  
  
Forever is our today  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Who wants to live forever?  
  
Forever is our today  
  
Who waits forever anyway?~  
  
The words of the song faded as Sara turned the radio off, sighing sadly as she did so. "That song always makes me feel like crying," she offered into the silence of the Tahoe cab. Grissom was pulling into the driveway at Nick's house, and he stopped the Tahoe before turning to look at her.  
  
"Why listen to it, then?"  
  
Sara shook her head at him, smiling in sad exasperation, "Why indeed?" She opened her door and slid out of the vehicle, leaning into the interior quickly after she said goodbye, "I listen to it to try to build up my courage, Grissom. We all have only a finite amount of time on this earth. Wouldn't it be much better to leave it knowing you'd loved someone who loved you back?"  
  
Grissom heard the door slam and watched her run up the driveway and into Nick's house, barely knocking before she opened the door and walked in. Sighing, he started the Tahoe and pulled out of the driveway, flipping his stereo back on and quickly finding the song again. He replayed it several times on his lonely drive back to his townhouse; and didn't even realize he was crying until he opened his front door.  
  
______________________  
  
Author's Note: Sorry - I know I said a couple of days, but things popped up and I just couldn't do it. 


	10. DIALOGUES

X - DIALOGUES  
  
"I've been walking these streets so long,  
  
singing the same old song -  
  
I know every crack on these dirty sidewalks of Broadway.  
  
Where hustles the name of the game  
  
And nice guys get washed away  
  
Like the snow and the rain.  
  
There's been a load of compromising  
  
On the road to my horizon  
  
But I'm gonna be where the lights are shining on me -  
  
Like a rhinestone cowboy -  
  
Riding out on my horse in a star-spangled rodeo  
  
Like a rhinestone cowboy -  
  
Getting cards and letters from people I don't even know  
  
And offers coming over the phone."  
  
Nick did not know Sara was back. If he had, he would have stopped singing at the top of his lungs while sorting his laundry. But he didn't know Grissom had dropped her off, and he continued singing much to Sara's amusement. She had heard him immediately upon entering his house; grinning when she heard his deep voice as she walked down his hallway and into his living room. The loud singing explained why he hadn't heard her knock. Leaning in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed and shoulder pressed against the frame, she watched him and waited for him to spot her.  
  
"Well, I really don't mind the rain  
  
And a smile can hide all the pain  
  
But you're down when you're ridin' the train that's takin' the long way.  
  
And I dream of the things I'll do  
  
With a subway token  
  
and a dollar tucked inside my shoe.  
  
There'll be a load of compromisin'  
  
On the road to my horizon  
  
But I'm gonna be where the lights are shinin' on me  
  
Like a rhinestone cowboy -  
  
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo  
  
Rhinestone cowboy-"  
  
Nick was folding his boxer-briefs when he finally turned and spotted Sara in the doorway, watching him. He grinned at her cheekily even as he felt his ears turn bright red, and pushed his underwear underneath a neatly folded t-shirt.  
  
"Hey, Sara. Didn't hear you come in," he tried for casualness, but must have failed miserably when Sara started laughing.  
  
"I knocked, Glen," she teased. "I guess the sound of your own voiced drowned it out."  
  
Nick shrugged, "It was playing on the radio when drove home. Couldn't help it - and besides which, what's wrong with a little Glen Campbell?"  
  
Sara sauntered over to him and grabbed a pair of jeans, folding clothes beside him companionably. She was humming under her breath, and smirked at Nick when he snorted at her.  
  
"See, he's contagious. I recognize Galveston when I hear it. I'll turn you into a country music junkie yet."  
  
Sara balled up a t-shirt and threw it at him, "In your dreams."  
  
Nick just grinned at her, "You ever been to Galveston, Sara?" He didn't wait for her to respond, just kept on talking. "When I was a kid, my siblings and I would go there every summer to stay with my dad's sister for a few weeks. The water in the Gulf of Mexico was so blue, and so warm - we would spend the entire day swimming. My Aunt Lydia lived in big old house with a huge wrap-around veranda. On really hot days, we would campout on army cots and gaze at the stars." His voice sounded slightly wistful, "I haven't been back there since I was nine. I don't know if Aunt Lydia even lives there anymore."  
  
He continued folding his clothes. "I can still remember how good the chocolate ice cream we used to buy at Hurricane's Ice Cream Parlor tasted after a day spent swimming in the Gulf." He shook his head suddenly, trying to clear the memories from his mind, smiling self-depreciatingly, "I suppose you can't stay innocent like that forever."  
  
They finished folding Nick's laundry, stacking it neatly in the empty bin, looking at his watch before he turned to her, "I don't suppose Grissom fed you before he dropped you off?"  
  
Sara shook her head, "What do you think?"  
  
"Right. I picked up a couple of subs on my way home this morning on the off chance you'd stay for lunch. Hungry?"  
  
Sara grinned at him, "Yeah. So, we talked to Marta," she trailed Nick into his kitchen and grabbed a couple of mugs from his cupboard, pouring them both a coffee from the percolator he had going 24/7 as he grabbed the subs out of the fridge. "She's a piece of work."  
  
"Really? Why?"  
  
"How did Brass put it - 'Phonier than a three-dollar bill from the planet Neptune?' - that sums it up. She said all the right things, but her eyes told a different story."  
  
"No tears?"  
  
"No tears."  
  
"What did Grissom think?"  
  
"You know Grissom," Sara shrugged, "when Jim and I suggested she might be misrepresenting herself, he was surprised. Normally, he's a good judge of people - but this time? I think she had him snowed."  
  
Nick cocked an eyebrow at her, "Attractive, was she?"  
  
"If you like your women tight and wrinkle-free, I suppose so," her response was dry, and Nick snorted.  
  
"I take it there's been some plastic surgery?"  
  
"Some? That would be downplaying it."  
  
They ate silently for a few minutes after that, before Nick looked at her again, "Something else bothering you, Sara?"  
  
"No. Do I look bothered?"  
  
"You always get a little tense around the eyes when your upset about something - and don't try to deny it. After two years, I know the signs. Care to share?" When Sara didn't respond, Nick sighed, "Is it this older man / younger woman thing? You're thinking of you and Grissom, aren't you?"  
  
Sara gaped at him, struggling to regain her equilibrium, "There is no me and Grissom."  
  
"Not because you don't want there to be." Nick's tone was serious, and he smiled gently at her sudden flush, "Don't worry - I doubt anyone else knows. Except maybe Catherine - she's pretty sharp, and she's known Grissom forever."  
  
"But - I - he - what are you going on about?" Sara sputtered.  
  
"Sara - you've been crushing on Grissom since you got here. There's a certain air about you when he's around that isn't there when he's not. You watch him when you don't think anyone will notice. You even stopped seeing Hank after Grissom called you in on your day off - that time you were in Pahrump - and then made you work solo. And if you think you can fool me by denying it, think again."  
  
He watched as Sara blinked, before looking intently at what was left of her sub. "This is so embarrassing," she muttered. "I didn't think I was being that obvious."  
  
"You're not being obvious, Sara," Nick replied gently. "I just recognize the signs because I've been there myself. It's hard," he sighed, "and I imagine harder when the person is someone like Grissom. He's so emotionally reserved - I bet you scare the hell out of him."  
  
Sara snorted at that, "Why would I scare him?"  
  
"Because you make him feel. You make him want things he's never really thought he wanted before. Grissom's not a regular guy, Sara. I don't know if he's ever been in love before or what, but I would guess not. I don't think he's ever met anyone before he would trust enough to fall in love with."  
  
Sara was listening to him intently, frowning, "So, what you're telling me is he's emotionally unavailable?"  
  
Nick shook his head, "No. What I'm telling you is you scare him. That's a good thing - it means he feels something for you over and above friendship. Guys don't get scared of women unless they have the power to hurt them - and you have the power to hurt Grissom. He'll deny it of course. He'll deny it until the cows come home, but it's there. I think he's in love with you too."  
  
"Really?" When Nick nodded, Sara sighed, "So - what do I do? How do I get this to progress?"  
  
"You have to shake him up a little bit," Nick responded. "He didn't like it when he thought you were seeing Hank. He was jealous, and he took it out on you by making you work solo. Frankly, I would love to work solo - but you don't, and he knows it. SO, shake him up again - make him think he's gonna lose his chance with you if he doesn't act soon."  
  
"And how am I going to do that?" Sara muttered, even as her eyes gleamed with speculation.  
  
"Pretend you're dating me."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom wandered aimlessly through his town house, staring at his butterflies blankly as he tried to get his emotions under control. He was not a man given to outward displays such as he was currently experiencing, and he honestly didn't understand what had come over him. The last time he had cried had been at his mother's funeral, several years before, and even then it had been only a slight moistening of the eyes and a few arrant tears escaping them.  
  
Sighing angrily he walked over to his stereo and hit play, before dropping himself into his sofa and looking at his watch. It was only 2:00 - two hours before he was meeting everyone back at the office. He supposed he could catch an hour nap, but the thought held no appeal.  
  
Instead, he found himself sitting there, remembering the abject sorrow in Willem van der Brucke's eyes when as he came to grip with his young wife's murder. His lips quirked slightly as he allowed himself to wonder how a man van der Brucke's age had the courage to allow himself to love a woman so much younger than him. Of course, he had told Grissom that Audra had been the one who pursued him; that he had fought it for two years before realizing he couldn't fight it anymore, but still. Grissom could think of nothing more terrifying than giving your heart over to someone who had the power to destroy you emotionally.  
  
He enjoyed the concept of love - it wasn't that difficult to comprehend in an objective way. He understood the concept; but not the application. The poets and the classic writers made it sound so wonderful and easy, like loving someone was the most natural thing in the world. But Grissom knew they lied. Loving someone was the hardest thing in the world. Just thinking about it made his heart pound.  
  
When he had been a younger man, less tentative in his dealings with people, he had believed that one day he would find that perfect someone everyone always said existed. But as the years had dragged on, Grissom had become more cynical. He saw so many crimes of passion, so many ways that love could hurt people, he began to close himself off from it. Grissom did not enjoy being hurt. In his mind, it was better to cut himself off from emotion then give in to it. There was that old saying 'Better to have loved and lost; then to have never loved at all.' In his case, the exact opposite was true. Grissom knew if he ever loved and lost, that would be the end of him. Especially if he allowed himself to love Sara.  
  
There had always been something about Sara - from the first time they had met at a series of lectures he had given in San Fransico, when she was just a young CSI Level I - that had drawn him to her. Part of it was her razor sharp mind; her intense curiosity and lightening quick thought synapses that had her formulating theories before most people even had time to absorb a crime scene. Part of it had been her eyes. When he was with Sara, the world seemed brighter. Everything seemed sharper, more focused. For a long time, he had been able to convince himself he enjoyed her so much because they were alike in their passion for the jobs. But that had been a lie.  
  
Looking back on things, his calling her to Las Vegas should have been the first clue. If he had listened to the voice of reason screaming in the back of his head not to call her, he wouldn't be sitting in his living room so miserable now. But he had gone on instinct in that case - something he rarely did. He had been faced with a dilemma, and his first instinct had been to reach out to her.  
  
She had touched him once. Her thumb and palm had caressed his cheek gently, the feel of her skin against his sending a frisson of need and desire so potent he had to close his eyes against her for fear she would see and be disgusted. She had only been wiping chalk, for goodness sake - but that one small touch had opened the floodgates. He had started dreaming of her at night, and it had scared him. So he had pushed her away - stopped working cases with her altogether to avoid embarrassing himself any more than he was already embarrassed by the sudden turn of his thoughts and surge of emotions he felt whenever she was near.  
  
And then she had threatened to leave. He had panicked, and Catherine had talked him through it - acknowledging in her own unique way that she knew Grissom had feelings for Sara, and that she supported those feelings. Grissom had taken Catherine's advice - sort of - and Sara had stayed.  
  
Bit by bit, he had opened himself more and more to her every day. Showing her pieces of him no-one else had ever seen. The poet had escaped him during their talk of beauty at the ice rink; their discussion of symmetry had led to a long look she had held. Grissom had thought maybe he would find the courage he needed to tell her how he felt - to acknowledge the power she had to hurt him. But he had waited too long - and Hank arrived at the scene and seized the day. All 6 foot plus, muscled, younger and better looking man than Grissom had ever been. Someone imminently more suited to Sara than Grissom was, and Grissom had stepped back.  
  
Just doing that had almost killed him - acknowledging that Sara had moved on before he ever had a chance to tell her how he felt had hurt beyond belief. He could only imagine how much worse it would have been if they had been in a relationship, and she left him.  
  
But today - his discussion with Willem, that conversation in the car; the song. Who wants to live forever? Grissom did, if it meant loving Sara and Sara loving him. Sara had talked to him of courage. He wondered if he could find his again, and tell her she was right. It would be much better to leave the world knowing you'd loved someone who loved you back. He just hoped he wasn't too late.  
  
_____________  
  
Author's Note: next chapter, more Warrick and Catherine, more case - and Nick sets his plan in motion. Song is 'Rhinestone Cowboy' by Glen Campbell. 


	11. ERNIE

XI - ERNIE  
  
~Between heaven and earth  
  
There's a ballroom floor  
  
Where couples glide  
  
In the evermore  
  
Floating through the clouds  
  
Dancing in the rain  
  
Eyes that see no lies  
  
Hearts that feel no pain  
  
Hope it's not too late  
  
We were more than friends  
  
I can hardly wait  
  
Til we meet again  
  
If you don't really know  
  
Where you want to go  
  
It makes no difference  
  
Which road you take  
  
Hope it's not too late  
  
We were more than friends  
  
I can hardly wait  
  
Til we meet again  
  
We never danced  
  
We never danced  
  
We never danced the night away  
  
We never danced  
  
We never danced  
  
We never danced the night away ~  
  
"So, what did you think?" Catherine asked, twisting slightly on the sofa to face Warrick as the closing credits of the movie faded out. She had shifted into a more comfortable position about a third of the way through the show, leaning into Warrick and curling her legs up to the side. Shifting to face him now, she pressed her shoulder into the back of the sofa just underneath his arm, planting her chest firmly against the side of his strong body.  
  
Warrick tried to ignore the feeling of her pressed so close to his heart, and smiled. "You never struck me as a schmaltzy-type before."  
  
"You don't believe in soul mates?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, shifting to face her, "The idea that there's one person out there who's your ideal mate - that you're destined to be together? That you'll only find happiness with them? I don't buy into that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"There's no proof. When you married Eddie, didn't you think he was your soul mate?"  
  
Catherine snorted, "God, no! I loved him - I hoped it would last, but I wasn't convinced that it would. I should have listened to the little voice inside me telling me not to do it, but I liked the idea of being married and having a family. Stupid." Catherine sighed, glancing at Warrick from under her eyelids, "That doesn't mean I don't think the perfect man doesn't exist."  
  
"Well - trust me - there is no such thing as a perfect man. And as a man, I can honestly say this. If you're waiting for perfection, you'll be waiting a long time."  
  
"I don't mean perfect in every way - I mean perfect for me." Catherine leaned her head against the side of the sofa and smiled.  
  
Warrick shook his head, "There are millions of people in the US alone - how are you supposed to find this perfect man? And even if you do, how will you know him - will you hear angels singing? Thunder claps? Fireworks? What?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were serious, as he studied her. *This is the oddest conversation*, he thought to himself.  
  
"I think maybe it will sneak up on me. I've never been one for the obvious. The perfect man could be right in front of me, and I've just never noticed before," Catherine's tone was light, but her eyes were serious. Warrick felt as if he was being burned by blue flames.  
  
"Catherine - don't start with me," he warned gently. "The flirting, I can handle. This - I don't know if I can."  
  
Catherine sighed, "I'm not just flirting, Warrick. There's something going on here - between us. I want to explore it a little. Do you?"  
  
"What about work?"  
  
"What about work? Work is work, and this is - us."  
  
Catherine placed her hand gently on his chest, just above his heart. She could feel the steady pounding of it through her skin, and smiled when Warrick covered it with the palm of his own, pressing. "Let's just take it where it leads. We don't need to move fast - I could love you, Warrick."  
  
Warrick closed his eyes at this, before reaching out with his other hand and pushing her hair off her cheek and behind her ear, marveling when Catherine leaned her face into his palm. "I could love you too, Catherine."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Nick, you're out of your mind," she was standing in a Starbucks with him, snagging coffees for everyone before heading back to the office. After Nick's stunning suggestion during lunch, Sara had carefully tried to avoid the subject again - not sure if he were serious or not, and afraid to find out.  
  
But after they had stopped at her apartment so she could grab some fresh clothes, Nick had brought it up again in the car. "We don't need to tell him we're dating-" he began, out of thin air, "Just let him think it. He probably already thinks it, anyways. Why not - I'm a single sinfully attractive male," he grinned wickedly at Sara, "You're a single beautiful woman probably in the throes of some biological clock turmoil - why wouldn't you want to date me?"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes and laughed, "Why am I driving you to work again?"  
  
Nick just grinned, "Because, deep in your heart, you like the idea. Listen, Sara - I'm not saying lie to him. Just get him thinking. I know we're not dating - you know we're not dating - but Grissom? It might be just the push he needs to act."  
  
Sara shook her head, "It strikes me as dishonest. I don't think it's a good idea."  
  
And now, here they stood in line at Starbucks, and Nick was still talking about it. "Sara, do you trust me?"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes, "Nick, you know I do - but this idea is crazy."  
  
He just grinned at her, "Crazy like a fox. Listen - who's the guy here?" When Sara just cocked an eyebrow at him, he flashed her his most charming smile. "Thanks for not challenging me on that. So - as the sole representative of the male species as far as this conversation goes, I think that gives me an edge in the psyche of the male mind. I'm telling you, this will work."  
  
Sara sighed in exasperation, and handed the guy behind the cash register some money, taking a tray of coffee and handing it to Nick, before grabbing the second tray. "You're not going to give this up, are you?"  
  
"Nope. 'Cuz it's a good idea, and it will work."  
  
"And what if it doesn't?"  
  
"How much worse off could you be then you are now?" Nick paused at the doorway, holding it open gallantly for a little old lady who was coming in, nodding at her politely when she thanked him, commenting to Sara it was so nice to have a handsome young man with such nice manners. "See? Even she thinks we're a couple, Sara. And what have you got to lose? If it doesn't work, it's not like it's going to wreck the relationship you already have - and if it does, well - I can think of a variety of ways you can thank me later."  
  
Sara shook her head at him, but couldn't help smiling. "Okay. What is this going to entail?"  
  
"That's my girl!" Nick chortled. "Grissom won't know what hit him."  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
Greg was actually the first person at the lab. Arriving a little prior to 4:00, he expected to see at least Grissom in the break room or in his office, waiting impatiently for the rest of the team - but even Grissom wasn't there yet.  
  
Sauntering down the hallway and into the locker room, he grabbed a book out of his bag and headed to the lounge to wait for everyone else. He hadn't been sitting there long when Grissom walked in, folders held tightly underneath his arm as he walked to the fridge and grabbed an apple.  
  
"First one here, Greg?"  
  
"Yeah. Imagine that." The younger man grinned at Grissom and sat a little straighter, dropping his book on the table as Grissom sat down across from him and started tapping the folders against the table top. He looked a little more tense than normal; eyes bloodshot and circled, skin slightly pasty. Greg frowned at him.  
  
"You feeling all right, Gris?"  
  
When Grissom just looked at him, Greg shrugged, "You look like hell, man. You getting a headache?"  
  
Grissom sighed, "No. Just have a lot on my mind."  
  
"My feet are better," Greg offered, as a way to keep the conversation going. When Grissom just started blankly at him, he sighed. "My feet - remember? You infected them with fungus - some 'little experiment' you needed to do?"  
  
Grissom half-smiled, "Right. Actually, it wasn't your feet - it was your foot. And it broke the case for us."  
  
Greg grinned, "I'll add it to my list of things you should thank me for, then."  
  
Both men looked towards the door when the heard the sound of Nick's voice echoing down the hallway. "How can you even say that? Gonzo was the coolest Muppet ever!"  
  
"I don't even know what Gonzo was," Sara responded cheerily, "and he was creepy. I'm surprised Ernie's not your favorite - he was smart, funny and had the endearing habit of annoying the hell out of Bert."  
  
"Only because Bert was too stuffy-" the good-natured bantering continued as the two rounded the corner into the break room, nodding hello at Grissom and Greg, "for his own damn good. Everyone needs an Ernie to loosen them up somewhat."  
  
Nick grinned at Greg as he handed him a coffee from the holder, and slid one to Grissom. Sara had grabbed a chair on the left side of the table from Greg, and Nick slid into the empty seat beside her, casually sliding his hand over hers as he sat. The slight touch didn't go unnoticed by either Greg or Grissom. Both men's eyes widened imperceptibly, before Greg grinned and Grissom frowned.  
  
"Sorry we're late," Sara offered, "but Nick said it was his turn to buy coffee for everyone, and he made me stop on the way in."  
  
"Nick drove into work with you?" Grissom asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.  
  
Sara nodded, "After you dropped me off, Nick and I had lunch. Since you wanted us back at four, there was no point in my going home so we caught the rest of the movie we were watching last night."  
  
"In other words, neither of you slept," Grissom's tone was dry as he looked at Sara. "How are you supposed to work to full capability if you don't get any sleep?"  
  
"You tell me. You don't look like you slept either," Sara retorted angrily. "I'm not a child, Grissom. You can't tell me when to sleep and when not to."  
  
Nick reached up a hand tucked a strand of Sara's hair behind her ear, grinning at Grissom as he did so, "Sleep is way over rated anyway."  
  
Before Grissom could respond, Catherine and Warrick walked into the lounge. "You been waiting for us? Sorry we're late - got stuck in traffic - there's some type of jam on my off-ramp."  
  
Catherine smiled happily at everyone, taking the spot next to Greg, "I hope one of those coffees is for me? I really need one - haven't slept."  
  
"You gonna lecture Catherine about her sleeping habits, Grissom?" Sara jibbed. Grissom ignored her, instead turning to Warrick.  
  
"I suppose you didn't sleep either?"  
  
"Nope. Not enough time. Cath and I watched a movie."  
  
Greg started laughing, "You and Cath 'watched a movie' - Nick and Sara 'watched a movie'. I'm beginning to think that's the latest euphemism around here for getting---"  
  
"Greg!" Sara kicked him under the table, face impossible red. Beside Greg, Catherine was grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and Warrick was looking at his feet. Nick just smiled widely and stretched his arms over his head before dropping one casually over the back of Sara's chair.  
  
"I have a feeling this is gonna be a great shift!" he chortled happily.  
  
"Shut up, Ernie," Sara hissed at him in annoyance.  
  
Grissom just looked at him miserably. What the hell was going on?  
  
______________  
  
Author's Note: Song is "We Never Danced" by Neil Young, from the movie "Made in Heaven". I think I'm one of the few people that ever saw it when it came out back in the '80s. Those were the days, my friends.  
  
Anyhoo - please R & R - we're getting back into the case the next couple of chapters. And Nick is going to torment the hell out of Grissom - will bug man snap? Stay tuned for continuing chapters - As the Lab Turns...(cue cheesy soap music and fade to credits.) 


	12. FEELINGS

XII - FEELINGS  
  
Grissom was in a foul mood. After quickly breaking the team up - assigning each one a different task - he had stalked out of the break room muttering something about finding Brass.  
  
Catherine and Warrick had been told to start analyzing the fibers they had found. Greg was going to work on getting a DNA sample from any eptihelials found on the hair Catherine had retrieved from the venting. Sara had been told to start analyzing the maintenance logs, and Nick had been told to go through the video surveillance from the service and main elevators and get stills of anyone entering the penthouse through either method.  
  
Grissom was going to oversee the efforts of the entire team, and was hunting down Brass to see if he had anything new to report. Grissom also wanted the phone logs pulled from the van der Brucke's cell phones and also calls to and from their penthouse using the phone therein.  
  
Nick winked at Sara as he stood, "If you need me for anything I'll be down in A/V with Archie."  
  
"I won't need you," she retorted, wincing when Nick just chuckled. Warrick and Catherine had already headed to trace, and Greg was pouring himself another cup of coffee before heading back to the lab.  
  
"You could come to A/V and go through the logs there - keep me company," Nick responded. "We should stick together."  
  
Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, "Really?" Her response was cool. Before Nick could respond, Greg interrupted.  
  
"What's going on with you two all of a sudden?" When Sara turned a frosty glare at him, he shrugged, "What? It's a good question. You two are acting strange."  
  
"Nothing's going on," Sara responded.  
  
"Absolutely nothing," Nick agreed, grinning widely and winking at Sara with great exaggeration. "C'mon, Sara. You going to be angry with me for the rest of the day?"  
  
"Looks that way," Sara retorted.  
  
"You know I love you," he responded. Sara sighed and shook her head, suddenly smiling.  
  
"You are such a pest! Fine - I'm not angry. I'll come down to A/V with you," Sara had forgotten Greg was still standing there, listening to her and Nick as they bantered back and forth. "I'll go get the maintenance logs - they're with the rest of the evidence, right?" When Nick nodded, she muttered, "Meet you there."  
  
Nick and Greg both watched her stalk out of the room, before Greg turned to Nick.  
  
"Don't tell me you two are seeing each other?" the young lab tech stated, his expression one of curiosity and shock.  
  
"Alright, I won't tell you that," Nick agreed affably, winking at Greg as he turned to follow Sara out of the break room. "Later, Greggo."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"You want phone logs." Brass greeted Grissom with a statement when he saw his friend stalking down the hallway towards him. Grissom nodded curtly, and Brass grinned. "You're getting predictable, Grissom. I requested they be pulled this morning already. Should be arriving soon. O'Reilly went to get them for me." When Grissom didn't respond, Brass looked at him a little more closely. "You look like shit. This case striking a chord with you?"  
  
That startled Grissom. He turned his intense blue gaze on Brass and muttered, "What?"  
  
Brass just smiled, "Case getting to you?"  
  
Grissom shrugged, "Why would it. It's just a case."  
  
"You tell me," Brass offered conversationally, leaning forward slightly and pitching his voice lower. "I thought the older man / younger woman angle might be bothering you somewhat."  
  
Grissom's eyes blazed angrily, before quickly shuttering. "What are you implying, Brass?"  
  
"I wasn't Chief of Forensics at one point because of my looks, Grissom," Brass smiled at his friend as he tapped a finger against the side of his head, "I do have brains you know. Want to talk about it?"  
  
"Talk about what?" Grissom was still trying to play dumb, but Brass would have none of it.  
  
"You. And Sidle."  
  
Grissom sighed, suddenly defeated, before half-smiling self-deprecatingly at his friend, "Nothing to talk about."  
  
"I bet there is," Brass replied, before nodding at O'Reilly who was quickly approaching them. "These the logs, then?" At O'Reilly's nod, Brass reached out a hand. "Thanks for grabbing these for me. You have your pager? Go home then. You've been here all day. I'll let you know if we need you for anything." Brass turned back to Grissom. "Let's go over these in your office - and talk."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Blue cotton-poly knit fiber. Several strands taken throughout the shaft. Also white cotton fibers, found at irregular intervals throughout the shaft." Warrick grunted and looked at Catherine. "This is useless until we find something to compare it too."  
  
Catherine sighed in agreement. "Wonder what Greg's got on the hair?" She leaned over Warrick, pressing slightly into his back as she reached around him and grabbed another evidence envelope, smiling at him when he arched his back away from her.  
  
"Cath," he warned, "not in the lab. Don't start something here."  
  
Catherine just grinned at him, but sat up again, running a hand across his back as she did so, "Just practicing."  
  
"Practicing for what?"  
  
"Tight spaces."  
  
Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I don't even want to know where this is heading  
  
"I have a feeling I'll have to go back in the air-exchange venting again. I didn't run for finger prints."  
  
"And how does leaning into me help you practice for crawling around a shaft?"  
  
Catherine grinned at him. "You just answered your own question."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"These logs indicate no one's done any sort of maintenance work in the venting for the penthouse for 6 weeks!" Sara muttered crossly. "How long have the van der Brucke's been staying there?"  
  
Nick, watching the video surveillance with Archie, shrugged, "I think they've only been there for a week or so, but not positive. Grissom would know. Who was the last person to do maintenance?"  
  
"Looks like a T. Price. I guess we'll have to bring him in." She looked up from the log, "You having any luck?"  
  
"Not so far. Haven't seen Marta. The maid - a couple of times. Van der Brucke and Audra. A couple of men with van der Brucke I assume are business acquaintances. Archie's pulling stills for us. I suppose we'll have to get the names of all of the ones we don't recognize."  
  
Sara sighed, "You working backwards?"  
  
"Starting from where you left off last night," Nick confirmed. "So, we've gone back about three days - both elevators."  
  
"And we have two weeks of tape," Sara replied. "This is going to take forever."  
  
Sitting beside Nick, Archie grinned. "Welcome to my world. It's not that bad - it's not like you have to watch in real time or anything. I've the tapes set-up to go backwards and hi-light every tenth frame - both tapes running concurrent - split screen, advanced speed. Shows us what we need to see without having to watch the whole thing. We'll average two hours of tape every 30 minutes - or four hours, counting both tapes."  
  
"Where were you last night when I had to watch these in real-time?" Sara muttered. "I could have used you, Archie."  
  
Archie just grinned, "You can use me any night you want to, Sara."  
  
Nick started laughing, shooting an amused grin at Sara. "Maybe you don't need me after all."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"This is interesting," Greg mumbled to himself, scanning the first two completed DNA reports, before turning to look at the hairs he had painstakingly sorted from the various evidence bags Catherine had collected.  
  
He had three distinct types of hair -blond, brunette and dyed a deep auburn. The blond hairs were two - three inches long, and had provided a fine set of epithelials. Catherine had found them on some screw within the venting. The brown hair was longer, five - six inches, and had been found on a separate vent screw from the first hairs, along with the auburn hairs. The auburn hairs were of similar length to the brunette, and from the way they had been tangled together, Greg assumed they had been underneath the brown hairs - in other words, yanked out first.  
  
Curious about the length of the hairs, he had gathered the epithelials from them first - the DNA tests on both the brunette and auburn hairs relatively straight forward. As he had expected, both tests had indicated the hairs had come from a woman. What he hadn't expected was that the DNA would confirm that the hairs belonged to the same woman.  
  
Grinning as he quickly catalogued the hairs, he picked up the report and sauntered into the hallway in search of Grissom.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So - you think we should talk to Mr. van der Brucke again?" Brass waited patiently for Grissom to reply. The two men had painstakingly combed through the cell phone records, and had managed to identify many of the umbers from those van der Brucke had already provided. Of particular interest to Brass had been several quick calls to Audra van der Brucke's phone in the 48 hours immediately prior to the burglary and her murder.  
  
Each call had lasted less than 30 seconds, and - as far as the phone records indicated - had been made from a prepaid cell package that was virtually untraceable. Brass had looked at Grissom askance when they realized the number of calls exceeded 15 and had smiled grimly.  
  
"Maybe the young Mrs. Van der Brucke had something to hide after all," he had muttered.  
  
Grissom had looked at Brass and shaken his head. "I don't buy it. There's something not right."  
  
"You think she was being set-up to look like she was setting something up herself?" Brass' question was skeptical, and Grissom had merely shrugged.  
  
"This is all too - pat. Every phone number can be accounted for except this one - which only ever called in to Audra's cell? And only in the last two days? It doesn't make sense. We're dealing with a professional cat burglar here, if the ease with which the actual entry and exit from the building was planned is any indication. Why would a professional leave such obvious clues? It's like a big red herring is being thrown in our face."  
  
"So, what do you suggest?"  
  
"I don't know, Brass. Let's wait and see what - if anything - the rest of the team can tell me. Right now, I'm at a loss."  
  
Brass looked at his friend intently, "Do you find it so hard to believe that this could just be a scam gone wrong? That Audra van der Brucke was having an affair, as her friend Marta hinted? After all, she did lie to her husband about her dinner plans with Marta. If she wasn't meeting her friend, who was she meeting?"  
  
Grissom shook his head, "You talked to Willem van der Brucke. Did you get the feeling from him that something was wrong with his marriage?"  
  
"Since when do you work on your feelings, Gil?" Brass rebutted. "Maybe he didn't know."  
  
"Wouldn't you think he'd suspect if there was a problem?"  
  
"I didn't suspect with my marriage," Brass responded dryly, "but that's just me. Are you sure you're not letting your personal feelings cloud the issue?"  
  
Grissom looked coldly at Brass, "What personal feelings would those be."  
  
Brass shrugged, "As I indicated earlier, I'm wondering how you're working around the older man / younger woman angle. Because of Sidle."  
  
"And I told you you were off base."  
  
"Actually, you didn't," Brass smirked. "You told me there was nothing to talk about. Not the same thing at all. Listen, my friend - I've been where you're at, and I recognize the signs. So just because you want to believe that a May/December relationship can actually work, don't allow that little fantasy to cloud your judgment where the van der Brucke's are concerned."  
  
Grissom sighed, "That's not what I'm doing."  
  
"If you say so," Brass shrugged, smiling at his friend in commiseration, "but from where I'm sitting - that's what it looks like your doing."  
  
Grissom was saved from further response by the knock on his office door. "Come in." His voice was sharper than he had expected, and he winced slightly at the harsh tone. Greg stuck his head through the open doorway tentatively.  
  
"Hey, Griss. Still feeling lousy, huh?"  
  
"What do you want, Greg?"  
  
Clearing his throat, Greg stepped into the office further. "I've got the DNA results back from two of the three hair samples Catherine and Warrick provided me. The other one is in the hopper as we speak." He shifted uncomfortably when Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at him without replying. In the chair opposite Grissom's desk, Brass tried not to look too amused at the young man's nervousness.  
  
"Well - are you going to tell me, or are we playing 20 questions here?"  
  
Greg gulped, "Yes. Right - well. I decided to run the DNA from the brown and auburn hairs first, because the hairs were quite long. I thought the length indicated the owners' might be female. Ah-" he shuffled and cleared his throat, "I was partially correct. Both DNA samples came back female. The interesting thing is - they're from the same person."  
  
______________________  
  
Author's Note: Hope this continues to intrigue! As always feedback is greatly appreciated. For those of you who have emailed me to comment on Nick's apparent deception being OOC, I respectfully disagree. After all, he's not lying to anyone - he's not saying he and Sara are dating. Is it his fault if Grissom assumes they are because they're friends? He may be a little deceptive in that he won't disabuse Grissom of the notion - but he's doing it because he thinks it may help. At least, that's my take on it. Personally, I love Scheming!Nick. 


	13. SCHEMES

XXII - SCHEMES  
  
"Hey guys," Greg stuck his head in the A/V room on his way back to his lab, "Grissom wants everyone in the break room in 10 minutes."  
  
Sara looked up from the maintenance logs and nodded absently, and Nick smiled. "How you coming on the hairs, Greggo?"  
  
"Well, I've broken the case wide open - AGAIN," Greg grinned, "or maybe I just confused matters more. I don't know. Two of the hairs are from the same person, and guess what? It's a woman. You guys having any luck?"  
  
"Not me," Sara muttered, "Unless this plan went in motion almost two months ago, I got squat."  
  
"The tapes haven't provided anything yet, either," Nick sighed, "Just the people you'd expect to see. I've got some stills. You'll keep running this for me, right Arch?"  
  
"Has anyone checked with Ronnie in ballistics on the bullet yet?" Greg asked suddenly. "I don't remember Grissom mentioning it earlier."  
  
Nick shook his head, "You're right - he didn't. I'll go talk to him now for a second. Want to come with me, Greg? Seeing as you're the one that spotted it?"  
  
Greg grinned, "Sure. You coming, Sara?"  
  
Sara shook her head absently, "No - I'll go get Catherine and Warrick and meet you guys back in the lounge."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Warrick were already in the lounge when Sara walked past it on her way to get them. Turning on her boot heel, she slid into the room and headed to the coffee machine. Some oldies radio station was playing in the background, Elvis' voice crooning away.  
  
"I guess Grissom already told you about the meeting?"  
  
"Yeah. He'll be here soon - he was just finishing something up with Brass. You find anything?" Warrick asked.  
  
Sara shrugged, "Not really - there's been no logged duct work on the air exchange unit for the Penthouse for the past six weeks. How far in advance do you think the van der Brucke's made their reservations?"  
  
"Who knows," Catherine inserted. "We've identified the fibers we found - now all we need to do is find out where they came from, which we can't do until we find our suspect. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. Where's Nick?"  
  
"Ballistics. With Greg." Sara quickly doctored her coffee, adding a generous dollop of cream and leaning back against the counter. "Did we ever get all the insurance info. in yet on the diamonds and jewelry? Life insurance on Audra?"  
  
"I think that's what Grissom was going to grab - Brass apparently had a package arrive. I think it was the policies direct from the insurance company involved."  
  
Nick and Greg chose that moment to enter the break room, and Nick grinned at Sara. "Should have known you'd be drinking coffee," he teased as he walked over to the percolator and poured a cup for himself. "Caffeine freak."  
  
Sara grimaced at him good naturedly. "Keeps me calm. I need all the coffee I can get when I'm working with you."  
  
Nick chuckled and leaned past Sara to turn up the radio, before gently removing the coffee mug from her hand and putting it on the counter. Grabbing Sara's hands, he pulled her into the middle to the side of the big break table. "I love this song!" he grinned, "C'mon, Sara - dance with me."  
  
~ Hey hey-ey, Baby,  
  
I wanna know-o-o  
  
If you'll be my girl  
  
Hey hey-ey, Baby,  
  
I wanna know-o-o  
  
If you'll be my girl  
  
When I saw you walking down the street,  
  
I said that's the kind of gal I'd like to meet.  
  
She's so pretty. Lord, she's fine.  
  
I'm gonna make her mine all mine  
  
Hey hey-ey, Baby,  
  
I wanna know-o-o  
  
If you'll be my girl  
  
When you turned and walked away  
  
That's when I wanna say  
  
Come on, Baby, give me a whirl.  
  
I wanna know if you'll be my girl.  
  
Hey hey-ey, Baby,  
  
I wanna know-o-o -~  
  
"When did this place turn into a dance club?" Grissom demanded as he walked into the break room and flipped the radio off. He tried not to sound peevish, but it didn't work.  
  
Nick just grinned at him as he dropped Sara's hands and scooped up his coffee before plopping down into an empty seat. "It was Bruce Chanel, man. It's like an unwritten rule that you have to dance to that song whenever it plays."  
  
Grissom just stared at him, face impassive and eyes icy, "No. It's not. If you want to be Fred Astaire, do it on your own time. Not mine."  
  
Nick winced good naturedly, "Whatever, hoss." He turned to wink at Sara, who was now sitting stoned face beside Greg, eyes glinting angrily at Grissom. "Wanna go dancing with me after shift, Ginger?"  
  
Sara smiled dangerously, "Sounds like it could be fun."  
  
Grissom interrupted, "Pardon me. Work? Remember? What have we found?"  
  
"Nothing," Catherine offered, her gaze lingering a moment longer than absolutely necessary on Grissom. He was being a bear tonight, and she couldn't figure out why. But she would. "Until we can find the clothes our fibers came from, we've got nothing to compare them too."  
  
"And Archie's pulling stills for us, but so far everyone is recognizable. The van der Brucke's, maids, Mr. Miles - a couple of men with Mr. van der Brucke I assume are business acquaintances. We'll have to confirm that though." Nick grinned suddenly, "At least we know the bullet we pulled out of the fascia is a match for the bullets pulled from Audra and or unknown cat-burglar - Ronnie confirmed it for us."  
  
"All I've got is a name," Sara interjected. "T. Price - last person to do any sort of maintenance in the venting."  
  
Grissom sighed in irritation. "Okay. Here's the plan then - Catherine and Warrick, go back to Icarus - talk to Mr. Miles and see if you can track down T. Price. We might need him to come in for questioning."  
  
"And I think I should go back into the venting - dust for prints. I didn't do it the first time around, but now that we know it's an inside job we could get lucky. Maybe whoever loosened the grating didn't wear gloves."  
  
"Fine. Do that," Grissom nodded abruptly.  
  
"Nick - you're with me. We're going to talk to Mr. van der Brucke again."  
  
"And what should I do?" Sara asked. Grissom hadn't looked at her once since he had walked into the lounge and snapped the radio off, and he didn't look at her when he responded.  
  
"You can start going through the insurance papers," he slid a large manila folder towards her. "These just arrived. Greg will help you."  
  
"Goody," Sara's tone was sarcastic, even as she shot Greg a sympathetic look, "sounds scintillating. Why can't I go with you and Nick?"  
  
"Because." Grissom's reply was short, and Sara flushed an angry red.  
  
"Good answer, Grissom. Thanks for the explanation." Standing and grabbing the folder she walked by Nick and touched his shoulder briefly. "Catch you later," she said pointedly, before turning defiantly and stalking out of the room.  
  
Greg shot an amazed look at Nick, who sat there with a large shit-eating grin on his face as he watched Sara leave, before taking off after Sara. Nick turned his grin on Grissom, noting the tight lines bracketing the older man's mouth and the tense set of his eyes.  
  
"My mom would say she's full of piss and vinegar," he chortled. "C'mon, Griss. Let's roll!"  
  
As the two men departed, Warrick turned and looked at Catherine who just sat at the table, a speculative gleam in her eyes.  
  
"What was that all about?" he asked, his tone slightly shocked.  
  
Catherine laughed suddenly, "I think Nick's playing with fire. Go, Nick!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick had to practically jog to keep up with Grissom, who was moving silently down the hallway as fast as his bowed legs would carry him. Smiling and two feet behind, Nick silently congratulated himself on his plan to make Grissom jealous. It was obviously working. He didn't ever remember seeing Grissom this tense about anything before, and he briefly felt sorry for the man.  
  
Grissom, while somewhat of an enigma, had always held a certain fascination for Nick. Sure, talk around the office said that he was emotionless; that he didn't deal with people well, that he was cold and liked bugs better than people. But Nick didn't agree. He had known Grissom for a few years now - not as long as Catherine had, but long enough to know better. Nick remembered what Grissom had been like when he had first started working the night shift, when Nick was still a CSI II. Sure, he had been a little odd, but he hadn't buried his emotions the way he did now. He had been known to crack a smile, or tell a joke, and even laugh at one. And while he had never really allowed himself to get emotionally involved in a case; he had never been emotionless when it came to solving them.  
  
He tried arguing this with Greg once, after Grissom had verbally slapped him down over something that really wasn't Greg's fault. The younger man had been crushed, and had bitterly muttered that just because Grissom was a robot didn't mean everyone else around him was; that other people actually had feelings. Nick had countered that Grissom wasn't an automaton, but Greg had just snorted in disbelief. When Nick had pointed out that Grissom had to care about people in order to do the job he did, Greg had disagreed.  
  
"He doesn't care about the people - the victims. He just cares about the science."  
  
Nick knew better. He had always been observant, and he had always liked puzzles. Grissom was the biggest puzzle going, and so Nick watched him. He saw the way Grissom looked at Sara when he thought no one was looking, the way his face would soften, his eyes wistful. The only time Grissom ever really seemed to smile anymore was when Sara was in the same room with him; a shy half smile that took years off his face.  
  
The Grissom from two years ago would have acted on what was so obviously attraction. And Nick didn't think Sara would have any problem going to see The Wizard of Oz mixed to the tunes of Pink Floyd, or whatever the hell Grissom's last known completed date had consisted of.  
  
Somehow - somewhere - in the last couple of years - Grissom had begun to shut everyone else out. His smile had become rarer, his laughter almost non-existent. Nick supposed part of the change could be attributed to the murder of Holly Gribbs and Grissom's subsequent promotion to Night Shift Supervisor, but that wasn't the sole reason. There was something going on with Grissom - something no one knew, something Grissom was trying to hide. And Nick was determined to figure out what it was; just as he was determined to force Grissom to confront his feelings for Sara head on in whatever way possible. Grissom had saved his life once, and now Nick figured it was time to return the favor. He wanted to give Grissom a life back - a life with Sara.  
  
_________________  
  
Author's Note: Bruce Chanel - Hey Baby - great song. Scheming!Nick - gotta love him. Grissom won't know what hit him. Next Chapter: Grissom and Nick chat about Sara, more case, and the Yobling flirt-fest continues. 


	14. ACHES

XIV - ACHES  
  
Greg found Sara sitting in his lab, scowling as she sorted the papers in the large manila folder. Leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets, he sighed. She was in a mood alright, and Sara in a mood was not someone to mess with. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he found himself praying that Ecklie would show up and demand he run some tests so he could get out of helping her, at the same time cursing the fact that - for once - he was all caught up.  
  
"So - Sara," he began, as he stepped into the room, "What do you want me to do?"  
  
Sara barely looked at him as she pointed to a stack of papers. "Insurance Numbers, amounts, hidden clauses, beneficiaries. List 'em."  
  
Greg gave her a mock salute and clicked his heels together, "Aye, Aye, Captain!"  
  
Sara grimaced at him, "Sorry, Greg. I'm not angry at you - it's just -"  
  
"Grissom was a dick," Greg grinned, "Yeah - I know. I was there."  
  
"I just can't figure him out sometimes," Sara muttered.  
  
"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die." Greg slid onto his lab chair and pushed off from the desk towards his CD player. "So - music?"  
  
"As long as it's not country, and not crap. I swear, between you and Nick it's a wonder I even listen to music anymore!" Sara looked at Greg and grinned suddenly, "Something calm."  
  
"Absolutely," Greg responded, grinning slyly at her, "Music soothes the savage beast." Flipping through his stack of CD's he found the one he wanted and turned it on. "Sting - Dream of the Blue Turtles," he smirked. "Can't get much calmer than Sting."  
  
~ Under the ruins of a walled city  
  
Crumbling towers in beams of yellow light  
  
No flags of truce, no cries of pity  
  
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night  
  
It took a day to build the city  
  
We walked through its streets in the afternoon  
  
As I returned across the fields I'd known  
  
I recognized the walls that I once laid  
  
I had to stop in my tracks for fear  
  
Of walking on the mines I'd laid  
  
And if I have built this fortress around your heart  
  
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire  
  
Then let me build a bridge for I cannot fill the chasm  
  
And let me set the battlements on fire ~  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom didn't say anything as he pulled out of the parking lot, and he wondered briefly if he could get away with not talking to Nick the entire drive. He sincerely doubted it, but he had remarkably little to say to the younger man beside him. Well, that wasn't actually true - he could think of a lot of things to say to him, but they wouldn't be professional.  
  
Beside him in the Tahoe, Nick was whistling. Whistling! ~Hey, hey baby - I wanna know - if you'll be my girl ~  
  
Scowling, Grissom leaned forward and snapped on the stereo system.  
  
~Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey  
  
I ache in the places where I used to play  
  
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on  
  
I'm just paying my rent every day  
  
Oh in the Tower of Song  
  
I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get?  
  
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet  
  
But I hear him coughing all night long  
  
A hundred floors above me  
  
In the Tower of Song  
  
I was born like this, I had no choice ~  
  
"Jeez, Griss. Music to kill yourself by? Who the hell is this?" Nick's voice filled the cab of the Tahoe, momentarily drowning out the music.  
  
"Leonard Cohen," Grissom replied shortly. "He's a great poet."  
  
"Well, thank god he's good at something, 'cause it sure ain't singing," Nick responded wryly. "If Spock sang, this is what he would sound like."  
  
Grissom ignored him.  
  
~ I see you standing on the other side  
  
I don't know how the river got so wide  
  
I loved you baby, way back when  
  
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed  
  
But I feel so close to everything that we lost  
  
We'll never have to lose it again  
  
Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back  
  
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track  
  
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone  
  
I'll be speaking to you sweetly  
  
From a window in the Tower of Song  
  
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey  
  
I ache in the places where I used to play  
  
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on  
  
I'm just paying my rent every day  
  
Oh in the Tower of Song ~  
  
Nick smiled at Grissom, shooting a teasing glance at him, "Not as easy to dance to as Bruce Chanel."  
  
Grissom frowned, but didn't respond. Nick leaned forward and flipped off the radio.  
  
"What was all that about back in the lounge room?"  
  
Grissom sighed in irritation, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"You were short with Sara. Where you jealous?" Nick purposely kept his tone teasing, noting with interest the way Grissom's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Were you jealous? It's a simple question, Grissom."  
  
Grissom kept his eyes glued to the road. "I don't want to dance with you, Nick." His tone was dry and sarcastic, the quick response shocking a sharp laugh out of the younger man.  
  
"No, I don't suppose you do." The two men sat in silence for a few moments, before Nick started again. "She's a great person. Great CSI; beautiful, sexy - smart. Any man would want her. Don't you agree, Grissom?"  
  
Grissom shrugged, "I really don't want to sit here with you and discuss Sara, Nick. It's none of my business what 'every man' wants."  
  
Nick shrugged, "No. I suppose it isn't. After all, you are her boss. You're not allowed to think of her in any other capacity, are you? But it's gotta be hard. Seeing her everyday, working with her - how could you not be attracted to her?"  
  
Grissom tried not to let the comments rankle. "I'm an adult, Nick. I can control myself."  
  
Nick winced, grinning at Grissom. "So, what you're trying to tell me is I'm not an adult?"  
  
"You were dancing in the break room."  
  
"Yeah. And I don't think the world stop revolving, either. A little spontaneity isn't a bad thing, Grissom." Nick looked at his hands, flexing his fingers against his knees, "Besides which, wasn't it nice to see Sara smiling again?"  
  
Grissom sighed, "I didn't notice she'd stopped smiling."  
  
"And that's where the problem lies," Nick muttered, his heart twisting slightly in his chest. "You better open up your eyes, Grissom, and start seeing the people around you again. Before it's too late."  
  
Grissom shot an oblique look at Nick, his face unreadable, "You and Sara seem to be awfully close, all of a sudden."  
  
"She's not seeing Hank anymore," Nick shrugged, "So I'm filling up the empty places in her life."  
  
"Is that what's it called these days?" Grissom's tone was tight.  
  
"What do you want to hear from me, Grissom?" Nick responded, "I like spending time with her. It's nice to have someone to talk to. You should try it sometime."  
  
"I talk to people."  
  
"About cases, sure. But nothing else. Not anymore. And I don't think you should talk to just people - you should talk to Sara."  
  
"Why? You seem to be talking to her enough for both of us."  
  
"And that bothers you." It was a statement of fact, and Nick sighed when he said it. "You don't want her to be happy."  
  
Grissom snapped, "I want her to be happy!"  
  
"Then talk to her," Nick responded calmly. They pulled into the parking lot of the Palms, Grissom jerking the Tahoe to a rough stop before cutting the motor. His movements were jerky as he got out of the Tahoe and pocketed the keys.  
  
"If you want to quit aching in the places you used to play, you gotta do something about it, man." Nick offered this good-naturedly as he moved to Grissom's side, trying not to smile at the older man's obvious agitation. "You need to find a girlfriend."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"So, we meet again!" Catherine's gaze was baleful as she glared at the venting. "It's a good thing I'm not claustrophobic."  
  
Warrick grinned at her and reached out to adjust her headset, "At least it should go quicker this time - you can just go straight to the mouth of the vent and get what you need. Just don't get stuck on anything in there, because I won't be able to crawl in after you."  
  
Catherine grinned. "That would be a fun one to explain to Grissom. Okay, I'm ready." Sliding to her knees, she winked at Warrick and slid through the opening of the shaft. "Talk to me!"  
  
Warrick's voice over the crackle of the headset sounded strangely distorted, "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"Oh - I don't know," Catherine replied, "tell me what attracts you."  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"What attracts you? Not a hard question, I think. Personally, I think you're a butt man myself."  
  
"And what makes you say that?"  
  
"Because I've got a great one," Catherine responded. "Am I wrong?"  
  
"Wrong about me being a butt man, or wrong about you having a great one?" Warrick teased. "Personally, I'm attracted to a complete package. Beauty and brains. What about you?"  
  
Catherine grunted softly as she pulled herself through the venting, pushing a small version of her field kit in front of her. "Oh, I don't know. I like confident men - who know how to flirt. I like gentle men, who know how to emote. I like men with blue/green eyes named Warrick." She said this last part softly, smiling when she heard his indrawn breath.  
  
She was about to say something else when she caught sight of the end of the shaft. "Holy shit," she muttered, "You're not going to believe this."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm about 20 feet away, and guess what? Someone's replaced the grating."  
  
"What?" Warrick's voice was incredulous.  
  
"Yep," Catherine muttered, "Someone crawled around in the shaft sometime today and replaced the grate."  
  
"Tampered with a crime scene," Warrick responded. Catherine knew from the tone of his voice he was frowning. "Where did they get a replacement grate so quickly?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "I have no idea. But I'm taking it out and bringing it back to the lab. And we'll need to find out who was in here and get their prints, for comparison purposes. I want to kill that concierge."  
  
"You think he's the one that had the grate replaced?"  
  
"Who else?" Catherine responded, "He wasn't happy to see us when we got here, remember? The first thing he asked was when the penthouse would be available for paying guests again." She had managed to pull herself the rest of the way up the shaft. "Thank God I have a multi-purpose screwdriver in here."  
  
Working quickly, she removed the grating, carefully propping it beside her as she dusted for prints around the edge of the shaft. The wind whipped her hair about, blowing powder back into her face and making her sneeze. Through the headset, Warrick laughed. "You should have heard the echo on that from this end! Sounded like a herd of elephants."  
  
"Thanks," Catherine responded dryly, "Couldn't help it though; powder blew back in my face."  
  
"You having any luck lifting prints?"  
  
"Looks good so far. Of course, they could belong to the maintenance guy that replaced the grate. This is some view!" Catherine muttered, as she applied the tape and lifted the prints. "Okay - done here. I'm coming out."  
  
"Good." Warrick's tone was grim. "We need to talk to Mr. Miles and find out what the hell he thinks he's doing."  
  
________________________  
  
Author's Note: Music by - Sting - Fortress Around Your Heart and by Leonard Cohen - Tower of Song; both fitting in my mind. Next chapter: Mr. Miles, Nick and Grissom talk to van der Brucke and more case facts.. 


	15. IF YOU LOVE A WOMAN

XXV - IF YOU LOVE A WOMAN  
  
If it was at all possible, Willem van der Brucke looked even worse today than he had the day before. Grief had made a permanent home on his face, his eyes steeped in a pain so intense Nick almost couldn't bear to look at him.  
  
When Grissom had told van der Brucke that Marta had denied having plans to meet Audra the evening of her murder, Willem's face had crumpled in upon itself, tears pooling in his eyes.  
  
"But who - why? Audra was meeting Marta; she told me it was Marta."  
  
Brass, who had been waiting in the lobby of the Palms for Nick and Grissom, leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "Is it possible she was having an affair?"  
  
Grissom and Nick had both winced at the question, even though they knew it was a valid one. Van der Brucke had looked at Brass, his expression shattered. "I will never believe that."  
  
"Did Audra know anyone else in Las Vegas?' Grissom's tone was unbelievably gentle as he studied the man before him.  
  
Willem shook his head, "No. No one. Just Marta."  
  
"Would Marta have a reason to lie to us about her dinner date with your wife?"  
  
Nick shot a glance at Grissom when he asked this, making a mental note to tell Sara that Grissom had been listening to her when she had voiced her distrust of the woman. Van der Brucke had merely shaken his head.  
  
"Marta was our friend. Why would she lie?"  
  
Brass snorted cynically, "People lie all the time. It's a fact of life. We're going to need names of every single person who knew you were in Vegas, knew where you were staying, and knew about the diamonds and jewellery."  
  
Van der Brucke just stared blankly past Brass' shoulder, "None of them would steal from me. None of them would hurt Audra."  
  
"Maybe someone you know told someone who would," Grissom responded, "That's what we need to find out."  
  
"Am I a suspect?" His eyes focused briefly on Grissom's face, skimming over Nick in the process. Nick thought he saw a brief flash of anger there, before it was replaced once more by sorrow. "Do you think I had anything to do with this?"  
  
Grissom smiled gently at the man, "You know I can't answer that, Mr. van der Brucke. It's an ongoing investigation."  
  
Willem merely nodded sadly, "Would you kill the woman of your dreams?" The question was rhetorical, and van der Brucke continued. "I do not doubt she loved me. She loved me more than I probably deserved. Yet you come here, and you try to make me question my relationship. My wife never lied to me; not once in all the years I knew her. I'll give you what you're requesting, but I will not hear any more aspersions on her character or on my own. We loved each other."  
  
"Sometimes love might not be enough," Grissom replied softly.  
  
"I used to think that way too," Willem responded, "and then I learned the truth. Love is always enough."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Warrick were waiting impatiently in Mr. Miles' office. The concierge had rushed him in there when they had found him after leaving the penthouse, promising to return momentarily. That had been 20 minutes ago.  
  
Warrick was sitting comfortably in a chair, watching Catherine pace in amusement. "It's okay to sit down, Cath."  
  
"I don't want to sit down," Catherine responded. "I want to find out who the hell was crawling around in our crime scene. And I want to talk to T. Price, whoever the heck that is." She stopped in front of the tinted glass window and looked out into the main lobby, searching for Miles. To her surprise, she say him standing at a discreet bank of phones a few meters away, gesticulating wildly as he talked to someone on the other end.  
  
"That's odd," she muttered.  
  
"What?" Warrick sat up a little straighter and looked to where Catherine was pointing.  
  
"If Miles needed to make a phone call, why not just have us wait and use his office phone?"  
  
"He didn't want anyone to see us in our LVPD Forensics gear. We're bad for business," Warrick shrugged, but his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied the man. "He looks pretty tense, doesn't he?"  
  
Catherine nodded absently, and looked at her watch. "He hasn't been on the phone since he left us here - I would have noticed him earlier. He's on the third phone from the right." She paused and turned to Warrick. "Didn't Nick say he showed up on the surveillance tapes for the Service Elevator?"  
  
When Warrick nodded, Catherine smiled. "Why would the concierge use the Service Elevator? He seems pretty snooty to me - don't you think he would view the service elevator as beneath him?"  
  
Warrick didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked at Miles again through the window. "How tall would you say Mr. Miles is?"  
  
Catherine shrugged, "I don't know. Not much taller than I am."  
  
"Exactly," Warrick's smile was grim, "and the little hair he has is blonde."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was sitting in the break room. Insurance forms bored the crap out of her, so she had left them with Greg and had gone down to AV to talk to Archie about the surveillance tapes. He had managed to pull several stills from the many hours he had already searched through, and Sara went over all of them, looking at the people. As far as she could determine, everyone of them would have had a legitimate reason for being in the penthouse.  
  
Sighing at the lack of clues, she decided to go through the maintenance logs again. They were almost as boring as the insurance papers, but at least they weren't full of legal jargon. Walking back to the break room, she stuck her head in the lab on the way past.  
  
"I'm gonna grab a coffee and go through the maintenance logs. Want one?"  
  
Greg had looked up from the myriad forms and ran a hand through his hair, grinning. "I never say no to coffee. Give me a minute and I'll join you there."  
  
Sara had nodded absently and headed off in search of a caffeine fix. Greg quickly looked at the information he had gathered already, and sighed. The van der Brucke's insurance premiums alone were more than he made in a year - way more. Greg was wondering idly what it would be like to have money like that when a ringing cell phone caught his attention. Sara had left her Nokia on the table.  
  
Grabbing it, he flipped it open, "This is Sara's phone."  
  
"But you're not Sara," Nick drawled. Greg smiled.  
  
"Thank you for noticing. She left her phone in the lab. Do you want me to get her, or can I give her a message?"  
  
"Can you grab her for me Greg? And I don't mean that literally."  
  
"Sure thing, bro. So - anything new to report?" Greg meandered down the hallway and into the break room. When Sara looked up at him, he grinned and waggled her phone at her. *It's Nick!* he mouthed.  
  
" - so, anyway, Grissom wants to know if you guys have found anything interesting in the insurance papers."  
  
"Same old, same old," Greg responded. "They look pretty standard to me. I mean, if you consider insuring millions of dollars of diamonds as standard. There was nothing that popped out at us. Sara's gone back to the maintenance logs. Here - talk to her."  
  
In the Tahoe, Nick said goodbye to Greg and smiled widely when Sara spoke into the phone. Grissom, trying very hard to pretend he wasn't listening to Nick's side of the conversation, leaned forward and turned up the radio slightly. Bryan Adams was playing on the radio, and Nick grinned. Even the fates were conspiring with him in his plan to make Grissom admit his feelings for Sara.  
  
  
  
~ To really love a woman  
  
To understand her - you gotta know her deep inside  
  
Hear every thought - see every dream  
  
And give her wings when she wants to fly  
  
Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms  
  
You know you really love a woman  
  
When you love a woman you tell her  
  
that she's really wanted  
  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one  
  
'Cuz she needs somebody to tell her  
  
that it's gonna last forever  
  
So tell me have you ever really  
  
- really, really ever loved a woman? ~  
  
  
  
"Hey, Sar."  
  
"Nick. Something I can do for you?" Sara asked. Shooting a sideways glance at Grissom, Nick smiled wickedly and pitched his voice purposely lower.  
  
"There are so many ways I could answer that question, Sara," he responded, "but Grissom's with me."  
  
  
  
~ To really love a woman  
  
Let her hold you -  
  
'til you know how she needs to be touched  
  
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her  
  
'Til you can feel her in your blood  
  
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes  
  
You know you really love a woman ~  
  
  
  
Grissom's brows beetled together, and Nick smirked. "Greg already filled me in on the insurance papers. You're going through the maintenance logs again?"  
  
"Yeah. And before you ask, I went to AV and looked at the stills Archie's pulled. Nothing jumps out at me. Where are you guys?"  
  
Nick laughed, "Why? Miss me?"  
  
Grissom jerked the Tahoe around a corner, causing Nick to hit the side of the Tahoe rather painfully with his shoulder.  
  
"Sorry," the older man muttered grimly. Nick grinned wider; Grissom wasn't sorry at all, and Nick knew it.  
  
  
  
~ When you love a woman  
  
you tell her that she's really wanted  
  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one  
  
'Cuz she needs somebody to tell her  
  
that you'll always be together  
  
So tell me have you ever really -  
  
really really ever loved a woman?  
  
You got to give her some faith - hold her tight  
  
A little tenderness - gotta treat her right  
  
She will be there for you, takin' good care of you  
  
You really gotta love your woman..~  
  
  
  
"We're on our way back to the lab. Brass is meeting O'Reilly at Marta's place. They're bringing her back in to clarify some stuff for us."  
  
"I take it you didn't learn anything new from Mr. van der Brucke?"  
  
"No, not really," Nick agreed. "All we know is that someone is lying about Audra's plans the other night. And I don't think its van der Brucke. Have you heard anything from Cath and Warrick?"  
  
"Not yet. I'll call them."  
  
  
  
~ When you love a woman  
  
you tell her that she's really wanted  
  
When you love a woman you tell her that she's the one  
  
'Cuz she needs somebody to tell her  
  
that you'll always be together  
  
So tell me have you ever really -  
  
really really ever loved a woman? ~  
  
"Okay then. I'll see you soon." Nick hung up the phone and tossed it beside him on the seat, turning to smile at Grissom.  
  
"Sara says hi," he said, as he leaned forward and turned up the radio. "This is a great song, isn't it Grissom? Bryan Adams is a smart man. Yessirree, Bob."  
  
Grissom merely cocked an eyebrow at Nick and continued driving.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"I specifically recall our colleague telling you that tampering with a crime scene was a chargeable offence." Warrick's tone was neutral as he watched Mr. Miles. The man had finally returned to his office, and was now sitting at his desk trying to appear calm. The slight shaking in his hands and the nervous pendulum-like swinging of his eyes gave him away.  
  
"I don't - I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"The air exchange shaft is part of our crime scene. Someone replaced the grating today after we left."  
  
"Well - yes. We couldn't leave it open for an indeterminate time."  
  
"Who replaced the venting?"  
  
"You'd have to ask Mr. Powers. I just told him to replace it."  
  
"An old boyfriend of mine is a district engineer for the city, and is familiar with building safety and construction," Catherine added, winking at Warrick when he glanced at her. "I called him while we were waiting for you and asked him what he knew about your hotel here - specifically, I asked him about the venting and the grates. You know what I learned, Mr. Miles?" Catherine didn't wait for a response. "He told me that the architects and building engineers had to have the grating specially made for the hotel to fit the unique design of the venting system. He estimates that each grate would have cost over $500.00 - conservative. I'm surprised hotel management had the foresight to have extras made - just in case one got lost."  
  
Miles rolled his shoulders, "I'm not in charge of ordering maintenance supplies. That would be -"  
  
"Mr. Powers. We know. We spoke with him as well, while we were waiting for you. He gave us his cell number earlier this morning before leaving for the day. He told us he thought you had pulled some strings - gotten a replacement grate quickly for him to re-install because he didn't have any extras. They don't tend to be something that needs frequent replacing. Anything you care to tell us, Mr. Miles?"  
  
Miles shook his head miserably, "I want a lawyer."  
  
"You're going to need one," Warrick responded. "We'll let you call one from the police station."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick strolled into the break room just a few feet ahead of Grissom, smiling when Sara looked up from the maintenance books and eyeballed the extra large Starbucks he was carrying.  
  
"That better be for me," she muttered, quickly smiling at Nick before shooting a baleful gaze over his shoulder at Grissom.  
  
"One for you, one for Greggo," Nick confirmed. "So, what's up?" Grabbing a chair he flipped it around and straddled it, forearms across the chair.  
  
"Catherine and Warrick had to call Lockwood to Icarus - they needed a police escort to bring Mr. Miles in."  
  
Grissom, who had been leaning morosely against the counter top perked up. "For what reason?"  
  
"I didn't get the whole story, but something about replacing the grate in the venting. They're bringing him in on charges of tampering with the crime scene, but they think he was involved in the robbery somehow."  
  
"What about T. Price?"  
  
Sara shrugged, "He's not a suspect. He was in a car accident several weeks ago, and is still in the hospital. Dead end."  
  
"Where's Greg?" Nick asked suddenly.  
  
"Catherine asked him to compare the unknown hair against the dead cat burglar. She wants to know if the two men could be related."  
  
_______________________________________  
  
Author's Note: Sorry - took longer to post this then I had anticipated. Mainly because I'm busy, and I'm working on a dozen other things right now. Not as much banter between Warrick and Catherine as initially intended, but don't worry - it's coming. Next chapter: the team discusses the case - banter involving everyone - we learn some interesting things about Miles..  
  
The song, of course, is "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman" by Bryan Adams. 


	16. CONSPIRACIES

XXVI - CONSPIRACIES  
  
  
  
  
  
"Greggo - coffee," Nick grinned as the young lab tech jumped. "Not that you need any more caffeine tonight, judging from your jittery response."  
  
Greg rolled his eyes at Nick, but smiled in appreciation as he saw the large cup Nick was holding out to him. "I'd tell you where to shove your comments, but since I don't have the coffee yet -"  
  
"Sara said you're running a DNA comparison?"  
  
"Yeah - the unknown blonde hair against the flattened cat burglar. Catherine has a hunch."  
  
"She's turning into Grissom," Nick remarked good-naturedly. "The evidence is 'talking' to her. How far are you on the comparison?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "Actually, it's pretty much done. We had the DNA already for both samples, and I just hadn't gotten around to comparing the markers yet for similarities. Vincent's the one who told me the blonde hair from the duct wasn't our dead guy's, but I wanted to look at it myself anyway. Not that I don't trust Vincent, but he only looks for the obvious."  
  
Greg grinned slyly at Nick as he tapped his keyboard and turned to the printer. "Myself, I like to look under the surface. Because, you know, if I looked for the obvious I'd think you and Sara were maybe an item. But I know you're not."  
  
Nick's mouth dropped for a moment before snapping shut with an audible click. "What the hell are you talking about Greg?"  
  
"You and Sara. The sudden increase in flirting. Dancing in the break room. Phone calls during office hours that veer somewhat away from professional. I'm not stupid, Nick."  
  
Nick didn't say anything. Greg smirked at him. "Actually, I'm a lot smarter than people give me credit for. Take, for instance, the comment you made in the cage at Icarus the other night, about Sara flirting with Grissom. At the time, I thought you were joking. But then - you know, you only really start flirting with her when Grissom is around. And that entire 'dancing after shift' thing earlier - entirely for Grissom's benefit. She's not going dancing with you, but the look on Grissom's face when she said yes - makes me think something is up. And that whole conversation the other day about older men and younger women? Il - lum -in -at - ing!" Greg drawled the last word. "So, you're trying to make Grissom jealous?"  
  
Nick shrugged and didn't respond, but he looked a little tense. Greg started laughing, "Relax, man. I think it's funny. I just can't believe you're the one trying to shake Grissom up like this. You worship the guy! Don't you think he's going to be a little pissed at you when he finds out you've been screwing with him?"  
  
"I don't worship him," Nick muttered, "and I'm doing it for his own good."  
  
Greg grinned, "You do worship him - we all do. But I happen to agree with you - Sara would be good for him. So, how can I help?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Thank God Lockwood was available to take Miles in," Catherine muttered. She was sitting tiredly in the Tahoe besides Warrick, "That man is a weasel."  
  
"We don't know he was involved yet, Cath," Warrick's tone was gentle as he smiled at the woman beside him. Catherine snorted inelegantly.  
  
"If he had nothing to hide, he wouldn't be clamoring for a lawyer," she retorted. "And did you see his face when we asked him if they kept employee fingerprints on file? I thought he was going to bust a vein right there. Hello, aneurysm!"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "It doesn't look good, that's for sure. Still - let's not jump to conclusions. Do you really think if he was working or related to our pancake, he would be so calm about his death? Just because he's blonde and slightly built like our jumping John Doe doesn't mean they're related."  
  
"I know," she was interrupted from further response by the ringing of her cell phone. "Willows. Yeah -yeah, Brass. No - we just left. Two blocks, maybe? Uh huh - so soon? Okay, we'll meet you there in 20 minutes." She sighed as she hung up the phone, looking at Warrick, "That was Brass."  
  
"No kidding," Warrick grinned, "what's up?"  
  
"He got a warrant for all the employee records - including the fingerprints taken for criminal checks. Miles' own fingerprints should be on file. We're meeting him back at the hotel. I'll call Grissom and let him know. He should be back at the lab by now."  
  
"Call him after we get the prints," Warrick interrupted. "We have twenty minutes before Brass will arrive at the Icarus. Think we could get something to eat real quick? We just passed a Subway place. Besides, we didn't really have any dinner and lunch was just a grilled cheese sandwich at your place. I'm hungry."  
  
Catherine grinned at this, "I suppose we should eat. Food will energize us; help us keep up our stamina."  
  
Warrick rolled his eyes, "Must you always flirt?" he teased.  
  
Catherine laughed softly, "Hey - you were the one that suggested Subway sandwiches."  
  
"And how's that flirting?" Warrick retorted.  
  
Catherine just grinned and licked her lips devilishly, blue eyes snapping as she teased, "You obviously want to see me wrap my mouth around something that's eight inches long."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was chewing the end of her pen. It was a habit she thought she had broken after that weird case with the antique books, but apparently not. Sighing in agitation, she took the pen out of her mouth and frowned at the tattered end, trying not to look at Grissom.  
  
He had been sitting silently in the break room since Nick had left to take Greg his coffee. Hardly 2 words had passed his lips as he had reached for the legal pad Sara had been making notes on.  
  
"That it?" he had asked, pointing at the pad. Sara had known exactly what he meant, and had slid it over.  
  
"Yeah - most of these are Greg's notes - I've added a few of my own a page or two in. All the insurance information is outlined. Policy numbers, value, payouts -" she stopped talking when she realized Grissom wasn't paying any attention. She desperately wanted to find out what - if anything - Mr. van der Brucke had said to Grissom and Nick, but there was no way she was going to beg him for information.  
  
Instead, sighing angrily, she had grabbed her pen and turned back to the maintenance logs, shoving her pen into her mouth and chewing the end to pieces.  
  
"This is thorough," Grissom finally commented as he looked at Sara and smiled, waiting for a response. Sara gritted her teeth and continued pretending to read the maintenance logs. She felt Grissom's eyes drilling a hole through her, and fought the sudden urge to grin.  
  
"Sara," Grissom's tone was slightly peevish, "what are your thoughts on the insurance. Do you think it's a viable motive?"  
  
Sara wondered briefly if she could get away with ignoring him again, before deciding not to push her luck. Arching an eyebrow at him, she straightened her shoulders and looked at him. "No, I don't think it's a viable motive."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because the van der Brucke's had more jewelry with them then they had insured for out of country travel. If you're going to pull an insurance scam, you make damn sure the insurance will cover what gets 'stolen'."  
  
"But what if you just want to murder your wife because it's cheaper than divorcing her, and a robbery-gone-wrong is your camouflage?"  
  
Sara frowned, "Since I wasn't with you and Nick when you spoke with Willem van der Brucke, I'm really in no position to comment on that." Her response was slightly less icy than the Arctic Circle, "However, if murdering you're wife is cheaper than divorcing her, I doubt he would want to lose a few million dollars in insurance money on the heist. He would have insured everything - and he didn't."  
  
Grissom smiled slightly at this, "True. What if she was planning on leaving him, and arranged for the robbery to line her purse, so to speak? Maybe she was double-dealt."  
  
"And you base this on what?" Sara retorted, "That fact that she was so much younger than her husband? Age is not a motive, Grissom."  
  
"You really don't find the age difference - that doesn't bother you?"  
  
Sara suddenly looked up at him, eyes blazing. "No," she snapped, "Why would it? Age is irrelevant when you love someone. I think she was surprised by a cat-burglar."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Not a match," Greg muttered, as he quickly scanned the print-out. "No markers in common; nothing. Catherine's hunch was wrong."  
  
Nick looked over the younger man's shoulder and looked at the report, sighing. "What if you run the jumper against the woman's hair. Maybe they're related?"  
  
Greg shook his head, "No. Did that earlier. Nada." He sighed again, and took a large swig of his coffee, wincing at the slightly tepid heat of it. "You see, that's the only drawback to these super-sized coffees. Unless you shoot them back, they start cooling down before you're even close to finishing them." He glanced balefully at his cup, "It's the microwave for you, baby."  
  
Nick had taken the print-out from Greg, and was looking at it intently. "Did you compare the hairs found in the vents against each other?" Greg shook his head and pushed his chair to the other side of the lab, reaching into a file and pulling out the report he had done earlier.  
  
"No, actually, I hadn't done that yet. Here."  
  
Nick took the proffered report and quickly layered it over the print-out he was holding, blocking off the dead cat burglar's DNA. He grinned suddenly. "Greggo - look at his. The hairs Cath and Warrick found in the venting? Siblings."  
  
Greg looked at the DNA markers, before grinning widely, "Brother and sister. This is getting interesting."  
  
_________________________________  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry - shorter chapter than normal. I've been having computer problems, and have managed to lose three chapters of this story - I know I saved them to my hard drive, but can't find them anywhere. So - rewriting them as best I can. Will try to get caught up as quickly as possible, thanks for your patience, and please R & R - I always enjoy everyone's opinions! 


	17. THE LOVE BOAT

XVII - THE LOVE BOAT  
  
Mr. Miles was a nervous man. Of course, he had every right to be. Catherine smiled from behind the one way mirror as she watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Lockwood had left him in there with Officer Dugan, a man not known for his ability to look friendly or make people comfortable.  
  
"He looks like he's sitting on tacks," Warrick commented.  
  
"I say we let him stew in there for a little while, really get him going," Catherine replied, "Besides, we never got a chance to eat our dinner. Brass was going to drop of the employee fingerprints at the lab for us - let's eat, run Mr. Miles fingerprints against the fingerprints from inside the venting and see if anyone else found out anything."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Warrick smiled at Catherine as she headed out into the hallway. She always walked with such purpose, shoulders back, head straight and proud. It was one of the things he admired most about her, truth be told. The woman dripped confidence along with sex appeal, and it was a major turn-on.  
  
The smell of her perfume mingled with the smell of her hair, and her heels made sharp staccato clicks down the hallway. Warrick followed a foot or so behind, enjoying the slight sway of her hips as she glided towards the break room.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Greg smiled happily as he signed the report, whistling under his breath before turning to face Nick. "So, shall we go find Grissom?"  
  
Nick grunted, "He was in the break room, going over some files with Sara, when I came in here. Hopefully, he's still there."  
  
Greg grinned, "If Sara hasn't scared him away yet. She was pissed when you all left her here to go through insurance papers."  
  
"I know, but it's good that Grissom left her here. Means he's feeling uncomfortable," Nick rubbed his hands together gleefully, "Listen, Greg - we have to keep this on the QT, right? This whole tweaking Grissom thing? Sara would kill me if she knew you knew about this at all, and too many cooks spoil the broth - know what I mean?"  
  
Greg nodded, "If that's what you want, Nick. I'll be an innocent bystander with front row tickets. Grissom is gonna have a meltdown - I'm not sure I really want to be all that involved anyway."  
  
Nick clapped him on the shoulder, "It's for his own good."  
  
"You keep telling yourself that, buddy. Let's just hope it doesn't all blow up in your face. There aren't many crime labs in the country as good as this one."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Warrick were in the break room when Nick and Greg walked in. Grissom was also there, studying the case file and covertly watching Sara as she laughed with Warrick about something. Nick grinned when he saw her, and quickly made his way over to her, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as he slid by her towards the fridge.  
  
"Hey Sara. Miss me?"  
  
Sara shot him an amused look, "You were just down in the lab with Greg."  
  
Greg slid into the empty seat to Grissom's left, "Yeah. About that, Sara - can't you keep him on a shorter leash or something? He's a pain in the ass when you're not around."  
  
Nick turned and shot a quick glare at Greg, who ignored him and instead turned to smirk at Grissom, "The guy's like a broken record - 'Sara this' - 'Sara that' - 'Sara, Sara, Sara!'"  
  
Nick moved around the table until he was standing behind Greg and clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing tightly, "No one needs to know about that, Greggo!"  
  
Greg winced but kept going, "C'mon Nick - don't be shy! Why not just admit -"  
  
"You haven't told Catherine about the hair samples yet, Greg. Don't you think it would be better to do that than to keep running off at the mouth?" Nick hissed.  
  
"What? Did you find something?" Catherine quickly swallowed the last of her subway, "Tell me my hunch paid off, Greg."  
  
Greg shrugged, shaking his shoulder free of Nick's death grip, "Well - no. Your hunch per se didn't pay off - however, your hunch got Nick and I looking for the not so obvious - and let's just say, we're good."  
  
"So you keep telling everyone," Catherine smirked, before winking at the younger man teasingly, "C'mon, Greg. What did you find?"  
  
"Well, you know how you told me to compare the dead cat burglar's hair to the blonde masculine hair for similar markers - see if they were related somehow? Well - that was a no-go. So Nick and I got talking about hairs - I had already compared the female hair against our pancake - nothing there. So Nick suggested comparing the masculine hair found in the venting to the female hair found in the venting - and it turns out, they're related - siblings, as a matter of fact."  
  
Warrick cocked an eyebrow at Catherine, "That's interesting."  
  
Grissom nodded, "So, there were three burglars?"  
  
Catherine shook her head, "I don't think so. I think there were two burglars - and an inside accomplice. We need to compare the finger prints - I think we might be needed a warrant for a DNA sample from Mr. Miles."  
  
"Wait a minute -" Nick interrupted, "You really think Miles might be involved?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "Could be. He tampered with the crime scene - had the grate replaced, fairly quickly. And the only way to remove the grate is from inside the air vent, so the person who did it would have to be built fairly small."  
  
"He's not much taller than I am," Catherine added, "and he's blonde. Also, it strikes me as odd they just happened to have an extra grate lying around - Mr. Powers told us as far as he was aware, no extra grates were ever ordered."  
  
"Add to that the security cam footage of him going up to the penthouse in the service elevator," Nick interrupted, nodding his head and grinning, "looks suspicious."  
  
"He lawyered up before we brought him in here," Warrick muttered. "He's in interview one right now with Dugan. Lawyer's probably there as well. We thought we'd let him sweat a bit before we go talk to him."  
  
"What about the fingerprint comparisons?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Brass was taking them to the lab for us. We should go check that out. Ready Cath?" Warrick slid to his feet, brushing a few crumbs off his pants as he smiled at Catherine and held out a hand, pulling her easily to her feet.  
  
Catherine grinned up at him, "Ready whenever you are, big guy. Wait a minute - you missed a spot." Standing on tiptoe, she grabbed a napkin and gently wiped a small spot of mayonnaise from the corner of Warrick's mouth, touching his face with a familiarity she didn't even stop to think about. Warrick just watched her intently, and ignored everyone else. Crunching the napkin, she tossed it into the garbage before flipping a cheerful wave at the rest of the team as Warrick guided her out of the break room, hand possessively riding the small of her back.  
  
Grissom, Sara, Nick and Greg watched them leave, momentarily speechless, before shooting glances at each other.  
  
"I feel like I'm stuck in some bad episode of 'The Love Boat'," Greg was the first to break the silence, "Only in this case, it's like the Love Lab. Catherine and Warrick - Nick and Sara -" he stopped when the three remaining people in the break room all glared at him. "Right. Shutting up. I think I'll be getting back to the lab - catch you later."  
  
"Not if I catch you first, Gopher!" Nick muttered after him, throwing a quick wink at Sara before turning to look at Grissom. The older man was scowling at Greg's retreating back, and Nick grinned. Maybe Greg's teasing wasn't such a bad thing after all.  
  
"So - Griss? I thought Brass was supposed to be bringing Marta in, not running print samples to the lab for Cath and Warrick. Griss? Earth to Grissom? Who's bringing Marta in?"  
  
Grissom blinked a couple of times, before shrugging. "Must be just O'Reilly. I'll go talk to Brass. You -" he pointed at Nick, "come with me. Sara - you can go observe Warrick and Catherine when they talk to Miles. See if you can pick up anything."  
  
Sara frowned, "Sounds exciting. Maybe I could help you and Nick with Marta instead?"  
  
Grissom shook his head, "I don't think that's a good idea, Sara. If you and Nick are - seeing each other - you shouldn't work together on cases. Too distracting."  
  
"Sara doesn't distract me, Griss," Nick protested, "We work well together."  
  
"Not today, you don't," Grissom muttered. "I'll meet you in my office in 10 minutes. Sara - you have your instructions."  
  
Sara scowled at Grissom as he exited the break room, before turning the force of her displeasure on a happy Nick. "I don't think you're idea is working, Nick!" she hissed at him, "and what the hell is going on with Greg?"  
  
Nick's grin got wider, "He just watched too much TV as a child. Listen, Sara - don't sweat it. Grissom is getting jealous - trust me on this. Just keep playing along, and it will all work out according to the master plan."  
  
Nick leaned forward and enveloped Sara in a quick hug, "Just remember - I expect to be best man at your wedding."  
  
Turning on his heel, he headed out into the hallway, humming, "Love - exciting and new - come on board - we're expecting you."  
  
__________________________  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Short chapter - sorry. And sorry for the length between posts - still trying to recover from a nasty computer virus that wiped out several WIPS, including this one - plus, Christmas rush, etc. and so on.. Hope the wait was worth it.I'll try to get the next chapter posted before the end of the week. 


	18. BALLISTIC

XVIII - BALLISTIC  
  
Warrick was leaning slightly over Catherine's shoulder when Sara stalked into the print lab. Catherine, sitting on a stool, had curved her back towards the younger CSI, almost touching his stomach. If Sara hadn't been so pissed of at Grissom, the sight of such an obvious PSV would have made her grin.  
  
"Got anything on the fingerprints?" she asked instead, scowling as she walked over to Catherine and propping her hip on the table.  
  
Catherine raised an amused eyebrow at her, "Tone it down, Sara. You're too damn chipper."  
  
Sara smirked at her, "Funny Cath. Grissom wants me to observe you and Warrick, so don't give me a hard time okay?"  
  
"He wants you to observe us?" Warrick's voice was slightly incredulous, and he shot an amused glance at Sara. "What did you do to piss him off?"  
  
"Nothing," Sara snapped back. "I have no idea what his problem is, but I'm sick of it. So - find anything?"  
  
"Yeah." Catherine smiled, "Visual match on the fingerprints on the grating and inside the venting and Mr. Miles, night-time concierge and odious little man. He's the inside link. "  
  
"So - we going to talk to him?" Sara asked.  
  
"We? I thought you were ob-ser-ving," Warrick drawled out the last word and grinned when Sara punched him in the arm. "Keep it up and I'll charge you with assault, Sidle."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Brass was talking to O'Reilly when he saw Grissom walking towards him, a slight scowl marring his normally owlish expression. Behind Grissom, Stokes strolled casually - hands in pockets and a big grin creasing his face as he watched his boss' back with amusement. Something was up.  
  
"Marta here yet?" Grissom demanded, in lieu of the preliminary niceties - like a greeting. "I want to talk to her."  
  
"Cool your jets, bugman," Brass replied drolly. "O'Reilly just arrived with her - she's in Interview Room 2 - I was just going to come get you. What's with you today?"  
  
Grissom didn't bother to try to hide his irritation. "Oh - I don't know. Maybe it's the fact I'm the only one that seems to be interested in working the case today. Between the dancing in the breakroom and the discussion about movies and bad TV shows, not a whole lot is getting done. Come with, O'Reilly."  
  
Nick grinned even wider when Grissom stalked down the hallway with the bulky detective in tow. "He's not upset with you, Brass. He's upset with me and Sara. Apparently, we're not allowed to have fun while we work."  
  
Brass smiled back at the younger man, "You and Sidle, eh? No wonder he's acting like someone just stepped on his favorite spider."  
  
"Yeah - but he's the one that told her to get a life, so I don't know why he's so upset. It's not like he owns her or anything."  
  
The two men looked at each other and grinned suddenly. "You trying to stir him up, Stokes? I happen to like Sara - so I hope you're either serious about her or this is all an elaborate ruse to get Grissom going."  
  
Nick shrugged, "Whatever it is, it's working. Wouldn't you agree?"  
  
Brass shook his head, "Just because he looks rational doesn't necessarily mean he is. It's always the ones you least suspect who snap. You going with Grissom?" At Nick's nod, Brass sighed, "Okay. Well, I'm on my way to find Catherine. I have a warrant for her."  
  
"Try the fingerprint lab," Nick replied as he hurried down the hallway after Grissom. "And tell Sara I said to hang tough."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Jim - just the man I wanted!" Catherine smiled as she and almost collided outside the lab room door.  
  
"Don't say that unless you mean it," Brass replied, smiling. "I got the warrant you wanted for Miles' DNA. I also have the phone company pulling a record of all calls made at 'Complimentary Phone 3' during the time you said Miles was using it. They were going to fax the information over as soon as possible. Judge Steinman is being pretty handy with the warrants today."  
  
"It's easier to get warrants when the victim is a beautiful young woman who happens to be married to one of the richest men in the world," Warrick replied. "Money talks."  
  
"Yeah - well, in this case, it's Mobley and the Mayor. He doesn't like the publicity. Says the murder is too high-profile and bad for Vegas. I think he's been talking to the Mayor again. Hey Sara."  
  
"Brass," Sara nodded curtly.  
  
"Nick told me to tell you to hang tough."  
  
"Really? Does he think he's a New Kid on the Block, now?" Sara griped. Beside her, Warrick snorted.  
  
"You really are little Miss Sunshine today."  
  
"And Grissom's Mr. Grumpy," Brass added. "You know anything about that Sidle?"  
  
Sara just rolled her eyes. "Are we going to stand around gossiping all day, or talk to Miles?"  
  
"Talk to Miles," Catherine responded. "You coming, Brass?"  
  
"Yep. Wouldn't miss this for the world."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Miles twitched when Brass walked into Interview Room 1 room, followed by the others. Nodding to him and his lawyer, Brass sat down and indicated that Catherine should start.  
  
"You care to explain why your fingerprints were on the grating and on the inside of the air exchange venting?"  
  
"They...they are?" Miles cleared his throat nervously, "I must have accepted the shipment of the new grating when it arrived."  
  
"It's not new,'' Warrick retorted. "We spoke with Mr. Powers and he told us that since the grating doesn't need to be replaced that often, no new ones had been ordered."  
  
"And even if it had been ordered since Audra van der Brucke's murder," Sara added, "it would take longer than 24 hours for you to receive it."  
  
Miles swallowed thickly and look at his lawyer, "It must be an extra we ordered with the original grates."  
  
Brass smiled, "Keep digging, Mr. Miles. Again, Mr. Powers confirmed for us that no extra grating was ordered with the original shipment. Care to lie about your fingerprints inside the air venting as well?"  
  
"I'd advise you not to say anything, Malcolm," Miles lawyer inserted. "Leave it and see how you fair in the indictment. Fingerprints alone aren't enough."  
  
"No," Catherine inserted silkily, "but I'm sure when your DNA comes back a match to the epithelials we discovered on some male hair shafts found in the air exchange system, that will be enough." She grinned when Miles dropped his gaze to his hands, "By the way, Brass here has a warrant for your DNA. We'll swab in a second."  
  
"You have a sister, Mr. Miles?" Brass asked conversationally.  
  
Miles blanched, "No."  
  
"'Cuz the female hair we found in the venting is a sibling match for the male hair. You might have gathered we're reasonably confident you're the inside link to the heist. So, you would have to know who our pancake is - the silent partner, so to speak."  
  
"Silent only because he's dead," Sara snorted. "Did you know Audra van der Brucke was going to die, or was she just collateral damage?"  
  
Miles was shaking his head, "I didn't.I wasn't..I don't."  
  
"Who were you talking to when Catherine and I were in your office earlier?" Warrick interrupted. "On the Complimentary Hotel phone?"  
  
"No one."  
  
Catherine sighed, "We're pulling the phone records for that time frame. Since you were on the phone for twenty minutes, it won't be hard. We'll find out."  
  
Miles slumped his shoulders, "I wasn't involved."  
  
"Sure you weren't," Brass agreed, "We'll leave you alone with your lawyer and let you try to come up with a couple of more reasonable answers to your fingerprints. And I would suggest you start testing plausible theories for the DNA match we're going to get." He looked to Warrick, who had walked around the side of the table, snapping on his latex gloves and carefully removing a swab from its protective casing.  
  
"Open."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Willem is mistaken," Marta stated, smiling at Grissom. "I wasn't meeting Audra - I already told you that."  
  
"Do you have any idea who else she might have known in Vegas?" Nick asked, watching her intently. "Mr. van der Brucke said you were one of her best friends."  
  
Marta widened her eyes dramatically, and Nick could practically see her willing the tears forward, "I loved her like a sister," she agreed, "but she didn't tell me who she was having an affair with."  
  
"You sound sure she was having an affair," Grissom retorted calmly.  
  
Marta shrugged, "It's the only explanation." Smiling flirtatiously at Nick, she leaned forward slightly, "I mean - do you think a woman in her 20s could be satisfied with a lover the same age as her father? I don't."  
  
Nick quickly tamped down his reflex to gag, "But if you were so close, wouldn't you know for sure?"  
  
Another dainty shrug, "Audra didn't tell me everything. Now - may I go? I have a hair appointment in 45 minutes, and I don't want to be late. Stephan is very hard to book - but he's a genius with color!"  
  
Nick shot Grissom a look, before turning back to Marta and dialing up the charm, "You mean that's not your natural color? Because it looks natural!"  
  
Marta preened, "I'm actually a mouse-blond, but Stefan says the dark mink is much more dramatic and suiting my fiery nature."  
  
"I bet you'd be stunning as a red-head too," Nick agreed. "Have you ever gone auburn?"  
  
"Yes - I liked it, but I prefer this. Stefan was saying that today he's going to highlight, and re-introduce some of the red tones."  
  
"My sister has been looking for a good colorist," Nick noted, conversationally, "What salon does Stefan work at? Maybe I should tell her to call him."  
  
Marta trilled a laugh, "If she can afford him - he charges $250 just for the initially consultation."  
  
Nick laughed himself, and winked at Marta conspiratorially, "She would say, 'That's what husbands are for!'"  
  
"A girl after my own heart," Marta laughed. Reaching into her small clutch, she retrieved an appointment card. "I don't need this anymore. Stefan is at 'Chez Cheveaux' - co-owner. Tell her to make sure to mention me when she calls!"  
  
Nick smiled and retrieved the card, keeping his gaze carefully flirtatious as Marta ran an index finger across his palm when she handed it to him, "I sure will, Marta. You don't know how much I appreciate this."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was irritated. Scratch that - he was beyond irritated. He was pissed off. Royally. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so angry. He watched in amazement as Nick courteously held the door open for Marta to walk through, Texas-charm turned on full-throttle, "I'm sure we'll talk again," he murmured.  
  
"I'm sure we will," Marta replied, before she disappeared in a waft of some expensive perfume and pheromones.  
  
Nick turned to Grissom and grinned, "Well. That was interesting."  
  
Grissom glared at him. "My office - now. Thanks O'Reilly." Heading quickly towards his office, he didn't even bother to see if Nick was following him. If the younger man knew what was good for him, he would be. Walking quickly to his desk, he turned just in time to see Nick closing his office door. The younger man looked honestly befuddled, and his guileless expression ratcheted Grissom's anger up another notch.  
  
"What the hell was that?"  
  
"What the hell was what?" Nick responded calmly.  
  
"That. The flirting with Marta. Don't you think it's a little unprofessional?"  
  
Nick felt his jaw drop, "Unprofessional? What are you talking about?"  
  
"'You're hair looks so natural,'" Grissom replied, "'Have you ever thought of going red?' What would Sara say?"  
  
"She'd probably say 'Good job!'" Nick retorted. "What the hell are you talking about, Grissom?"  
  
"Sara would like you flirting with another woman? I swear to God, Nick - if you hurt her, I'll - I'll -"  
  
Nick grinned suddenly. "Oh - I get it now. You think I was flirting with her. God, Grissom - give me some credit. I was getting some useful information."  
  
"For your sister in Texas!" Grissom sneered, "Or maybe it's for some other girl you have on the side, ladies-man."  
  
Nick felt an answering spark of anger, "Are you trying to provoke a fight, Grissom, or are you going to listen to me?"  
  
"What could you possibly say that could explain why you were flirting with Marta when you're seeing Sara?" Grissom roared back. Out in the hallway, Sara, Catherine, Warrick and Brass froze as they walked by Grissom's office. Three heads turned to look at Sara, who shifted uncomfortably.  
  
Nick's response was stronger than before, "Will you stop treating me like I'm some kid who doesn't know shit? I was working the case." Nick's accent had gotten stronger, his voice a little harder, "And I would never do anything to hurt Sara. If you'll stop jumping to conclusions and acting like a jealous suitor perhaps you'll learn something from me for a change!"  
  
"That would be a first," Grissom's voice was loud, and deadly cold. Out in the hallway, everyone flinched. For a few seconds, no one spoke - neither inside or outside Grissom's office. And then, Nick's voice.  
  
"Fine, Grissom. Whatever. I'm sick of trying to earn respect from you, because obviously I'm never going to get it. You want to jump to conclusions, you go right ahead. You have no idea what's going on between Sara and I - so, think what you want. I'm going to go talk to Catherine and tell her my theory. At least I know she thinks I'm partway intelligent. And then I'm clocking out. I'll be at my place when you're ready to talk about this like a rational human being. And I expect an apology."  
  
It was too late for the four people standing in the hallway to scatter. Nick spotted them immediately upon opening the door. Smiling grimly at his friends, he handed Catherine the appointment card Marta had given him. "Marta Fitzroy has her hair colored at this place by Stefan. Her original color is blond. She's been a red-head in the past. Current color is brunette. She's very petite - I'd say smaller than you Cath. I think we should see if she's related to Miles. I think the female eptihelials found in the venting might belong to her."  
  
"Nick -" Catherine began, but he shook his head.  
  
"Just let me know if this pans out." Turning to Sara, he smiled at her, a genuine smile. Leaning into her, he whispered in her ear, "I think it's safe to say he's jealous."  
  
"Nick -" Sara gave him a quick hug, at a loss for words.  
  
"It's alright, Sara. It's been a long time coming. I won't let Grissom scare me away. I just can't be around him right now - I'll say something I'll really regret."  
  
Nodding brusquely at Warrick and Brass, he turned and headed down the hallway, "Catch you later."  
  
The four of them watched him leave, before turning to look at Grissom's office. He was sitting at his desk, face inscrutable, looking out into the hallway at them. "Are we working here, or having a coffee break?" he muttered at them. Catherine looked at him coolly, before turning and heading to the break room, followed by Warrick and Brass.  
  
Sara remained in the hallway, alternately looking at the doors Nick had just left through, and at Grissom. When Grissom cocked his eyebrow at her, in his patented "Well?" expression, she snapped.  
  
Without even asking, she strode into his office and slammed his door. "Nice work, Grissom. Really smooth. I never suspected you had it in you to be such an ass."  
  
______________________________  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Sorry for the long wait between posts. I am still having problems with a particular virus that seems to have glommed on to this particular file and corrupted it. Hopefully, it's fixed now. Anyway, hope the wait was worth it - I honestly do think that under the right set of circs. Grissom has potential to go ballistic. This is just my way of doing it. Please R&R - let me know what you think! 


	19. ISLANDS

XIX - ISLANDS

Nick just drove.  Nowhere in particular.  Just drove.

He knew, eventually, he would end up back at his place – he had told Grissom that's where he would be;  if nothing else, Nick was a man of his word.

Smiling grimly, he flicked on his CD player, listened for a few minutes, and flicked it off.  He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, and pulled into a new lane of traffic, saluting the bonehead who flipped him the bird as he leaned on his horn and swore at him.

Nick felt oddly happy.  He didn't understand what had just happened, but he knew it was good.  He had been feeling under-appreciated for a couple of years now.  He had been wanting to tell Grissom for months that just because he had a southern accent, was from Texas and had a life outside work didn't mean he was stupid.  

Yet, when Grissom had implied during their argument back at the office that there was nothing he could learn from Nick, he had felt hurt.  Grissom's terse 'that would be a first' had stung, because if had gone straight to the heart of Nick's insecurities about his own abilities.  No one took him seriously, and it bothered him.  He was sick of feeling like the lowest rung on the ladder.  

He didn't know as much as Grissom – but who did?  He wasn't as suave as Warrick – but who was?  And Catherine – she knew about life, and had a great wealth of different experiences to draw from.  Sara – just all around smart.  The girl was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge.  They all had their areas of specialty that Grissom respected – except Nick.  

No one realized his area of specialty was people – he understood people at an intrinsic level, knew how they felt, what made them tick.  His casual observations of victims and criminals over the past few years had been valuable to many of their cases, but no one recognized it as his specialty.

Nick had been a CSI III for two years now, and Grissom still hadn't really let him go solo on a meaty case.  Grissom had told him once that Nick just wasn't ready, but Nick knew that wasn't true.  Sara had gone solo, and she wasn't even level III yet.  Nick didn't begrudge her, of course.  She was damned smart.  She was a good CSI – her instincts were right on.  She deserved to work solo.  But so did he.  Not only that, he deserved respect – the same respect he gave everyone else he worked with.  

At the same time, he knew that Grissom hadn't exactly been thinking rationally during their little argument, and it amused him.  It wasn't often that anyone got to see Grissom emote.  Grissom was always in control, but his obvious jealousy over the whole 'Sara' situation had made him lose it.  It was nice to know that Grissom was actually human.  Nick had always suspected that Grissom could be irrational, but had never been able to prove it.  Now he had.  He had just needed to find the right buttons to push.

Nick had suspected from the moment Sara had shown up in Las Vegas that Grissom's orderly life was about to be turned on its ear.  When Grissom had announced two years ago that he was bringing in a 'friend' to investigate the circumstances surrounding Holly Gribbs death, Nick had been intrigued.  Grissom didn't have 'friends' that he knew of – co-workers, peers, sure.  Bugs – God yes.  But friends?  He knew there was something more to that particular story.

Sara's arrival hadn't disappointed.  He had been throwing dummies of the roof of a hotel when she had arrived, and Grissom had forgotten he had on a two-way headset.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Norman pushed…Norman jumped…Norman Fell…"

"Wouldn't you, if you were married to Mrs. Roper?"

"I don't even need to turn around…Sara Sidle…"

Chit-chat, soft feminine tones, and then…

"God Sara, I have so many unanswered whys."

Up on the rooftop, Nick had grinned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nick had liked Sara from the start.  What wasn't to like?  She was smart, abrupt, intense – just like Grissom, only prettier.  Nick had always liked Grissom - the man had always intrigued him.  From his first day with the crime lab here in Las Vegas, the enigma that was Grissom had puzzled him.  Nick recognized genius when he saw it, and he knew Grissom could teach him more about Forensics than he could ever learn from anyone else, so he had taken to studying him.  Learning from him.  Grissom had become his mentor.  And in his intense study of the man, Nick had come to realize that Grissom, while trying to hold himself aloof, probably felt things and experienced things more intensely than anyone else he knew – including himself.  But where he, or Warrick or Catherine would get frustrated – would scream, or cry, or go out and do something crazy to blow off steam – Grissom would just internalize it all; lock things away and try to pretend he didn't feel.  

That's why the man had killer migraines.  That's why he had a reputation around the lab as a socially-awkward – but brilliant – science geek.  That's why he needed Sara – she was a socially-awkward science geek too – and she could teach him how to feel.   Despite all Grissom's best efforts to remain in control and aloof, Sara still managed to get under his skin.  Grissom could fool himself all he wanted, but he couldn't fool Nick.  Nick was an experienced 'people-watcher', and he recognized the signs – Grissom loved Sara.  Sara loved Grissom.  Getting the two of them together would be easy, if it wasn't so hard.

Nick huffed out an annoyed laugh at that, and smiled as he recognized how close he was to his house.  He'd taken a circuitous route to get there, driving on auto-pilot the majority of the time, but here he was.  Humming to himself, he pulled into his driveway and entered his house.

* * * * *

"Sara, come on in," Grissom had muttered darkly as his door slammed behind her, before he turned back to the file he had been reading.  He had decided to ignore her.  The last thing he needed to hear right now was her sticking up for Nick,  even though Grissom recognized that Nick had been correct.

Ignoring her was easier said than done, however.  She stood in front of his desk, legs braced, toe tapping in agitation, arms crossed.  Grissom felt her dark gaze burning a hole through his head.  She had called him an ass.

Sighing in frustration, he made an elaborate show of pretending to finish the report he was reading, before folding it neatly and replacing it in the folder on his desk.  Waving slightly at the empty seat in front of him, he indicated she should sit down, before looking up at her when she refused to do so.

"Don't you have something better to be doing right now?" he finally asked, looking at her from over the rim of his glasses.

"At this exact moment in time, no.  But you do."

"And what would that be?"

"Apologizing to Nick."

Grissom just grunted, "I don't need to apologize to him."

Sara sighed angrily, "Yes, Grissom, you do.  Do you realize you just basically told Nick that you didn't think he was intelligent – and everyone heard you?"

"You shouldn't have been eavesdropping," Grissom retorted.

"We were walking by in the hallway when you started yelling at him," Sara replied.  "He told you he had a theory, you refused to let him explain it, and then you told him he had nothing to say to you that was worthwhile."

"I didn't say that, I said -"

"'_That would be a first!'" Sara interrupted him.  "He told you he had an idea, and you shot him down.  You implied Nick would never contribute anything to the conversation you could 'learn' from, and when he said he was sick of trying to earn respect from you, you..you.."  Sara stopped.  "You made him feel worthless, Gil, when you didn't deny it."_

It was the use of his name that caught him off guard, along with the sudden defeat in her tone.  Grissom took his glasses off and pretended to clean them, before looking at Sara again.  "I don't want him to hurt you, Sara."

Sara scoffed at that, "The only person with the power here to hurt anyone is you, Grissom.  And you don't realize it.  Nick would never hurt me.  But you?  You go through life, studying your bugs, being all enigmatic and brilliant – and you never let anyone in.  Well, I'm sick of it, so I'm going to tell you something – Nick was only trying to help me.  He had this theory that you were interested in me, and he decided that flirting with me – making you think we were seeing each other - would force you to admit it."

Grissom stared at Sara in shock.  "Why would he do that?"

"Because he's my friend, and he's tired of seeing me throw myself at you with no response," Sara retorted.  "This – whatever it is – either needs to go forward or it needs to stop.  You're killing me, Grissom.  One day, you talk to me.  The next day you don't.  You flirt – then ignore me.  You don't believe me when I tell you I'm not seeing anyone.  I can't take it anymore.  You either want me, or you don't. Nick was just trying to get you to admit you want me."  Sara's words were like arrows, piercing Grissom's armor.  Her tone was intense; her breathing rapid.  Every once in a while, her voice would break – but she never tore her eyes away from Grissom's.  "Or is it that you only want me when you think someone else does?"

"Sara," Grissom began, but stopped when she raised a hand.

"Don't.  Just – don't.  I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now.  I'm sorry I let Nick talk me into this little scheme of his, only because it ended up hurting him – and he is the last person in the world I would ever want to see hurt.  This whole situation is humiliating enough as it is.  I'm going to find Nick."

Grissom rose to his feet, "Sara – I'm sorry.  I didn't realize -"

"And that's the problem, isn't it Grissom?  You never 'realize', until it's too late.  Well, I got news for you – I'm not gum to be scrapped off your shoe, and neither is Nick."

* * * * *

Catherine, Brass and Warrick sat in the break room, silently drinking coffee.  Finally, Brass spoke up.

"Wow.  That was intense."

Catherine just looked at him, "Sara's probably giving him hell right now!"

"Who knew Grissom could lose his temper like that?" Warrick added dryly, "Or that Nick would tell him off?"

"It's been a long time coming, I think," Catherine replied.

Brass just shook his head, "I warned him.  So – about this theory of Nick's – I suppose I should try to get a warrant for a sample of Marta's DNA so we can see if his theory pans out."

"What can we base the warrant request on?  We have no physical evidence linking Marta to anything, just some vague suspicions based on her body size and the fact that none of us seem to like her that much," Catherine sighed.

Brass tapped the side of his nose and winked, "Well, we do know where she's going to be later today.  We know she dyes her hair, and according to Audra's husband, she was supposed to meet Audra the night of the murder.  She hasn't met you yet, Cath.  Maybe you can shadow her at 'Chez Cheveaux' – get a hair sample from the trimmings left on the floor. We can compare it to the hair from the air vent, and if it's a match it will be easy to get a warrant."

"Sounds good," Catherine smirked, "I've always wanted to go there.  A hair style from a real professional at the lab's expense sounds like good cover to me."

Warrick just shook his head, "You jumped all over that one.  But it might not even be necessary -  we're still waiting to see who Miles called from the complimentary phone at Icarus.  Maybe it was Marta."

Catherine looked at her watch, before grinning and tapping Warrick on the knee, "Why don't you work on that aspect, and see what you can find out about Marta Fitzroy and Mr. Miles, and I'll head over to the salon and make an appointment.  That okay with you, Brass?"

Brass smiled back, "Catherine, Grissom is upset enough as it is without you spending a couple hundred of the labs discretionary funds to get a haircut."

Catherine rolled her eyes, "Killjoy."

Brass laughed as he stood and walked out of the break room.  Warrick watched him leave, before turning to Catherine and placing his large hand over her own and squeezing gently.

"Don't do anything to your hair – it's perfect as it is."

* * * * *

Grissom was sitting in his office, staring at the open doorway, when Brass stuck his head in the door, "Is it safe to come in?"

Grissom blinked slowly, letting his shuttered gaze drift to his friend, "What?"

"You realize we're all pulling doubles again,"  Brass began, "Catherine is headed out to follow up on Nick's lead, and Warrick is going to do some research.  I'm assuming Sara left?"  Brass just nodded when Grissom didn't respond, "Yeah.  I thought so.  So, what are you going to do about this, Grissom?"

Grissom sighed, "Do about what, Jim?"

"Nick.  Sara.  What are you going to do?"

"Nick will be back when shift starts.  I'll talk to him then.  I shouldn't have jumped off the handle."

"Don't you think you should take the opportunity to go to his place and talk to him before shift?  What if he decides not to come in?"

"He won't.  He's reliable," Grissom retorted.

"You ever told him that?"

Grissom shook his head, and Brass smiled in commiseration, "Well, all I have to say – it's nice to see you're human."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Brass shrugged, "It means what it means, Grissom.  Of course, learning that you are human has probably come as a shock to you.  You've been an automaton for so long now, to actually risk exposing yourself has to be somewhat intimidating."

Grissom frowned, "I'm not an automaton."

Brass rolled his eyes.  "You're missing the point, Gil.  Nick sees it – I see it – we all see it.  You cut yourself off from life.  You don't have real relationships with anyone.  You have no idea how hard it is to be your friend."

"If it's so hard, why bother trying?"

Brass grinned at Grissom's peevish tone, "Because we're roughly the same age, and we're surrounded by young Turks – I think we have to stick together, show them who's boss.   Listen, I'm not saying this to hurt you – I just want you to understand that your team looks up to you.  They emulate you – especially Nick.  And you do sometimes tend to treat us all like we're not quite as smart as you."  Brass held up his hand before Grissom could object, "I know we're not as smart as you, but couldn't you pretend every once in a while?  Take the time to see how hard your people work for your approval, Grissom.  Remember to give it to them.  Reach out and grab the life that's waiting there for you.  These people won't be here forever.  Sooner or later, they'll get tired of waiting, and they'll start to resent you.  Perhaps Nick already does."

"Sara told me -"

Brass interrupted, "And that's another thing – Sara.  The only person you're fooling in regards to her is yourself.  We all see it.  And you know what?  No one seems to think you and Sara getting together would be a bad thing – except you.  I know I made a couple of comments regarding older men and younger woman during the last few days, but that's just my general cynicism.  In the real world, it happens."

He rose to his feet, and reached into a pocket, retrieving a stick of gum and popping it into his mouth.  "Last thing I wanted to know – you know Paul Simon or Art Garfunkel?"

Grissom looked at Brass, confusion at this abrupt change of conversation evident, "What are you talking about Jim?"

"Simon and Garfunkel.  I think they wrote a song all about you – it's called 'I Am a Rock'."  Grinning at Grissom's snort, Brass exited his office, humming under his breath.

___________________

Author's note:

Yeah, I know – lots of talking in this chapter and no real action.  Sorry – but this little ploy needed to come out in the open, and I liked the idea of Sara being so pissed at Grissom that she's the one that spills the beans.  Hopefully, y'all won't have to wait so long for the next chapter – I got a new computer, and so far it's bug free!  Please R&R – let me know what you think – I'm wondering if I should redo this chapter, and depending on feedback might fiddle with it again soon.


	20. RICKI LAKE

XX –  RICKI LAKE

"Lynds – honey, I know that I've been working all night and all morning, but I need to stick around for a while longer yet and -"

Catherine paused and looked at Warrick, grimacing when the little girl cut her off.  Warrick smiled in sympathy, and nodded at Grissom as the older man walked into the break room.

"Sweetheart – maybe we can go get a dog tomorrow; or -"  she sighed again, and rolled her shoulders, trying to alleviate the sudden tenseness, and Warrick noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes, "Of course I love you honey, it's just that - -"

Warrick held out his hand, "Let me talk to her for a second, Cath."  His tone brooked no argument, and Catherine merely looked at him before handing him the phone.  "Lyndsey, it's Warrick.  Just hold on a second."  Covering the cell with his hand, he looked at Catherine.  "You really going to let her get a dog?"  Catherine nodded.  "Tell me the rules, and I'll take her.  I can meet you back here afterwards."

"Warrick – I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering."  He uncovered the phone, "Lynds – would it be alright if I took you to look for your dog?  I can come and get you now, and we can go. Would that be good?"  He smiled at Catherine and held the phone away from his ear so she could hear the little girls excited squealing.  "Yeah – but listen, Lynds – I think you have something to say to your mother before I take you anywhere.  You know what I'm talking about?"

He handed Catherine the phone and waited patiently for her to finish up the call, before turning to Grissom who was standing just inside the break room, gazing absently at the microwave.  "What's up, Grissom?"

"Oh.  Uh – Brass came and told me you were pulling doubles.  I told Greg to go home, and come back tonight.  I was going to – ah… If you don't need me for anything, I thought I'd go to apologize to Nick."

Catherine, who had taken a moment to dab at her eyes, turned to smile gently at her friend, "That's a good idea, Grissom.  You were unusually hard on him, and his theory really is a good one."

Grissom sighed, and stepped into the room another foot.  "I know.  I overheard him telling you in the hallway, and then Brass also gave me the lowdown.  After Sara yelled at me and left."

Warrick tried not to smile at Grissom's carefully neutral expression and the banked distress in his eyes, "She told you off, huh?"

Grissom nodded miserably, "She said…she said I made Nick feel worthless.  She implied I make her feel – worthless – too."

"You do tend to take them both for granted – Nick does a lot of the grunt work around here, and Sara…what is going on with the two of you?"

Grissom didn't say anything, but both Catherine and Warrick noticed the way his attention dropped immediately to his hands.  Catherine sighed and stepped closer to Grissom, placing a hand on his arm.  "Maybe I should rephrase that – what do you _want_ to be going on between the two of you?"

"I don't – there's nothing – I'm her boss, and she's quite a bit younger than me and-"

"Big deal."

Grissom paused and looked at Warrick.  "Pardon me?"

"Big deal," Warrick grinned as he said this, making a 'pffting' hand.  "Age is irrelevant – if anything, this case we're currently working on should have shown you that.  So, you're her boss – do you think we care?"

"But -"

"Gil," Catherine interrupted, "Why won't you let yourself be happy?"

Grissom looked at Catherine, eyes belying the sudden pain her words caused, before they carefully blanked.  "I'm happy."

"No," Catherine disagreed, "you're not.  But you could be.  If you weren't so used to being lonely."  Turning to Warrick, who was standing behind Catherine smiling at Grissom sympathetically, she smiled at him.  "Before you take Lyndsey to find the animal that will demolish my house, can you drop me off at the salon.  I need to speak with the stylist before Marta shows up."

* * * * *

Grissom was still standing in the break room when Greg stuck his head in the door five minutes later.  "Griss.  Grissom.  You alright?"

Grissom turned to the younger man, face carefully neutral, before sighing.  "What are you still doing here?"

"Forgot my new Pink CD in the lab, and wanted to listen to it on the drive home.  I'm sacked, man."

Grissom nodded absently at the younger man, lost in thought.  Greg waited for a moment, expecting Grissom to say something to him, before rolling his eyes and heading down the hallway.  "Okay, whatever.  See ya in a few hours."

He was almost to the doors when Grissom stopped him.  "Greg!"

"Yes, Grissom?"

Grissom half-jogged down the hallway, "Do you know where Nick lives?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."  He looked at Grissom skeptically.  "Are you telling me you don't?  Didn't you drop Sara off at his place yesterday or something?"

Grissom shrugged, embarrassed.  "Yes.  I did – but she gave me directions.  I forget how to get there, and I need to talk to him."

Greg pursed his lips together, "He's worked for you how long, Grissom, and you don't even know where he lives?  Do you know where I live?"  

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Greg sighed, and headed out into the parking lot, trying hard not to lose his patience with the older man.  "Nothing, I guess.  I mean, it's not like you and I are friends or anything.  From what I heard about the conversation you had with Nick today, it doesn't sound as if you think too highly of him either, so why should I be surprised that you don't know -"  He snapped his lips shut tightly, and looked at Grissom suspiciously.  "Are you going to yell at him some more, or are you going to apologize?"

"What business is that of yours, Greg?"  Grissom snapped back, peevishly.

"Absolutely none.  See you around Grissom."  Greg unlocked the door to his car, and slid into it.  Before he could slam it violently, Grissom grabbed it.

"Are you going to tell me where he lives?"

"You have access to 'employee' files.  Go look it up."

"Greg -"

"Greg what?  You know, Grissom, Nick's my friend.  He's a great guy.  He cares about everyone who works at the lab – genuinely cares.  He talks to us even when he doesn't need information from us.  When we're upset, he notices.  When we're down, he tries to cheer us up.  He always has a minute to listen.  And he sticks up for you all the time -"

"Sticks up for me?"  Grissom interrupted.

Greg nodded, "Yeah.  You – Grissom.  I was ready to quit a few months ago because of you.  Nick talked me out of it."

"You were going to quit?  Why?"

Greg rolled his eyes, "You always come into the lab, demanding this or that; but you never say thank-you.  You never tell me I've done a good job on anything you've ever requested of me.  But the day I almost quit was the day you gave me foot fungus as an experiment, without asking my permission first.  I was pissed.  Nick calmed me down.  Told me you didn't realize it would upset me – that you were just so passionate about the science that it sometimes got in the way of the people.  But he told me I would regret it if I left – he said, 'You'll never have the opportunity anywhere else to work for someone as brilliant as Grissom.  You can learn a lot from him, Greg.  And the biggest thing you should know right off the bat – if Grissom didn't think you were good at what you did; if he didn't respect you; you wouldn't be here.  He likes to surround himself with intelligent people.' "

Grissom looked honestly taken aback, "I'm sorry, Greg.  I didn't realize – I guess I just take for granted -"

"Everyone."  At the sudden hurt expression on Grissom's face, Greg sighed and reached across to the passenger side of his car, opening the door slightly.  "You do.  I'm even starting to get used to it.  So – you going to get in?"  At Grissom's confused look, Greg grinned.  "I'll take you to Nick's.  He can bring you back to the lab later."

"What made you change your mind?"  Grissom asked, as he slid into the empty seat beside Greg.

"I hurt your feelings.  Which means you actually have feelings; ergo, Nick has been right about you all along."  Greg shot a sideways glance at Grissom, grin still firmly pasted on his face. "He doesn't hold grudges, Grissom.  I'm glad you're going to apologize to him.  Can I give you a little hint? Ask him how his correspondence courses on Ornithology are coming along."

* * * * *

"Shouldn't you be trying to cheer me up, instead of the other way around?"  Nick teased Sara gently as he handed her a fried tomato sandwich.  

"You don't seem to be taking it too badly," she murmured ruefully.  "Much better than I thought you would be, all things considered."

Nick shrugged, and plopped down onto the sofa beside her, throwing his feet up on the coffee table.  "If I thought he actually meant it, I'd be upset.  But I know he doesn't really think that way – if I was really stupid, I'd never have made it to CSI level III, and Grissom would have forced me out a long time ago."  He nudged Sara's knee companionably with his own, "Besides, he was just lashing out.  He thinks I have you, and it's killing him."

"He doesn't think that any more," Sara muttered darkly.  

Nick cocked an eyebrow at her, "No?  Did you tell him the truth?"

Sara grimaced at the delighted grin on his face.  "I was pissed off at him for yelling at you like that, so -"

"You barreled into his office, read him the riot act _Sidle-style, and than blurted out the plan.  Once again, Super Sara rises to champion the underdog!"  Throwing an arm around her shoulder and squeezing it, he batted his eyes at her and simpered, "My hero!"_

Sara laughed.  "You are such a goof!"  But she didn't shake his arm off her shoulder.  

Nick grabbed the remote with his free hand and flicked on the TV, flipping randomly through the channels.  "So – what did he say when you confronted him?"  No reply.  "Sara?  What did he say?"

"Well – uh…"

"You didn't stick around to find out, did you? You're almost as bad as Grissom is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Finally, an opportunity presents itself for you and Grissom to really talk – to lay it all out on the line – and what do you do?  You come running to me."

Sara nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, "I didn't come running to you."

"No?"  Nick replied.  "Then explain what you're doing here with me, when you could be back at Grissom's office – or better yet -  his townhouse - resolving the attraction issues you two have."

"I already told you what I'm doing here – I wanted –"

"To see how I was doing, yeah, yeah.  I know."  Nick shook his head, smirking when Sara blushed.  "Admit it, Sidle.  You were scared."

"I was not scared."

Nick snorted.

Sara sighed, "Okay.  Because it's you – maybe I was a little bit scared.  You're the one who convinced me to go along with your little charade.  You're the one who convinced me that Grissom just needed a little prodding in the right direction.  You're the one who convinced me -"

"That Grissom loves you.  He does, Sara," Nick smiled.  "Who wouldn't?"  Tearing his eyes away from the TV, he smiled at her.  "Everyone loves you.  You're a very lovable person."

This time, it was Sara who snorted, "Yeah.  I'm lovable all right.  Like a rabid porcupine is lovable."

"So you're a little prickly sometimes.  Big deal.  It's part of your charm.  Hey look – Ricki Lake!  What's the show today?"  Turning the TV up, he started laughing when the show title flashed across the bottom of the screen, " 'Unavailable Men and the Women Who Love Them'  – this could be educational for you."

* * * * *

"Are you sure this is the dog you want, Lyndsey?"  Warrick looked at the small puppy dubiously.  The high-pitched yips of the little mutt were going right through his head.  Turning to the helpful ASPCA employee, he asked, "What type of dog is this again?"

The young man grinned at him, "As near as we can tell, it's got some Dachshund, some Yorkie and some Miniature Poodle in its' background."

"How big will it get?  We have specific rules about sizes – her mom will kill me if I bring her home a dog that'll grow larger than mid-calf."

The younger man crouched down on his haunches besides Lyndsey, rubbing the puppy's tiny head affectionately.  "This little thing?  She won't even get that big.  8 - 10 pounds, max.  She's got all her first shots, and you can bring her back to have her spayed when she's old enough.  Part of the adoption fee."

"You sure this is the one you want, Lyndsey?  I mean, you haven't even looked at any of the other dogs."

Lyndsey shook her head, her blue eyes widening dramatically, "Please, Uncle Warrick!  She's perfect.  She's lotsa different colors, and she's little and her tongue is ticklish."

"Okay, then.  Wanna call your mom?  I told her you would.  I'll fill out the adoption forms.  You still naming her Spot?"

Lyndsey shook her head 'no' emphatically, "I think I'm going to name her after my favorite person!"

Warrick smiled indulgently at the little girl as they followed the ASPCA guy back to the front desk, Lynsdey clutching her puppy tightly.

"I don't think 'Grissom' is a good name for a puppy, Lynds.  With a name like that, she might decide to start eating bugs.  And mommy won't work either – she won't know whether to she should lick you or make you a lunch."

Lyndsey giggled, "No silly.  I'm going to name her Warrick Brown, but I'm gonna call her Brownie for short.  Is that okay?"

Warrick smiled, his heart filled with an overwhelming love for this little girl, "I'd be honored."

* * * * *

Greg looked at Grissom and grinned.  "You going to get out and let him know you're here?"

They had been sitting in the driveway for ten minutes, Grissom silently looking from Sara's car to Nick's house and back again.  Greg had silently been watching Grissom.

"Look at it this way, Grissom," he finally offered, "This way, you kill two birds with one stone."

Grissom smiled grimly, "From what you've told me on the drive over, discussing killing birds in Nick's driveway might not be the best idea."

Greg laughed, "You're quite amusing when you're nervous.  Come on, Grissom.  Get out.  I have to be back to the lab in less than 6 hours, and I'd like to get a little sleep."

"Maybe you could just drop me off at my place?"

"Uh-uh.  No way.  Get Nick to do that.  Or Sara.  Sara's a better person to ask."

Grissom closed his eyes against Greg's teasing.  "Christ – does everyone know?"

"That you and Sara should get it together?  Not everyone.  Not Ecklie.  I don't think Mobley suspects anything…uh…the mayor seems to be out of the loop too…."

Grissom opened the door and got out, "Greg.  Shut up.  It was a rhetorical question."  His voice held no malice, however, and he half-smiled at the younger man when he said it.  "And Greg – thanks."

____________________

Author's Note:

Okay – I'm trying to average a chapter a week.  I've been busy.  I'm really sorry.  I'm glad you all are still reading this and sending me emails about it – I promise we're almost done.  Really soon!  And I'll have the next chapter up within 5 – 6 days.  Please R & R!  The reviews help me think things through….


	21. ADMISSIONS

XXI - ADMISSIONS

Nick wasn't answering his door.  Sighing in irritation, Grissom turned and looked back down the driveway, but Greg was long gone.  Why wasn't Nick answering the door?  His truck was there; right beside Sara's vehicle.  He had to be home.  Maybe they were sitting in the backyard.  Maybe his doorbell was broken.  Knocking roughly, Grissom reached for the doorknob and twisting, not expecting it to be unlocked and slightly taken aback when it was.

_*Hadn't Nick learned anything from Nigel Crane?*_  Grissom muttered under his breath as he stepped inside and carefully shut the door behind him, sliding the bolt shut with a satisfying click.

Down the hallway, he heard the muted sounds of the TV, so he headed in that general direction.  "Nick?  Nicky?  You here?  Sara?"

Walking into the living room, he paused when he saw the two in question, sprawled comfortably on Nick's sofa.  Nick had his feet up on the coffee table, but Grissom could tell from the awkward tilt of his head and the limpness of his arm draped across the back of the sofa that he was sleeping, as was Sara, curled into his side, head on his chest.

Grissom felt like he had been sucker punched.  Hitching in a breath, he stepped backwards and spun at the same time, left foot catching the edge of the wall as he did so.

"Huh?" Nick opened his eyes groggily, turning his head slightly to see Grissom standing self-consciously in the open doorway of his living room.  "Grissom?"

Grissom stepped forward,  "Uh...yeah.  I came by to talk and – you're door wasn't locked…"

Nick blinked again, trying to clear his head, shifting his arm slightly and gingerly easing himself away from Sara, who was still sleeping soundly.  Standing stiffly, he rolled his shoulders and motioned for Grissom to follow him into the kitchen, flicking off the TV as he passed by.  "Sara probably didn't think about locking it when she came in," he grinned.  "Want something to drink?"

"Uh...coffee?"

"Sure.  If you don't mind waiting for it to perc.  Sit down and give me a minute."

Grissom nodded absently, sitting down at the kitchen table and picking up a couple of the notebooks lying on it.  "How's this going?"

Nick glanced at the books and grinned, "If I said 'for the birds', would you think that terribly punny?"

Grissom snorted, "How long have you been interested in ornithology?"

Nick shrugged as he carefully added the grounds to the filter, and flipped on the pot.  "Remember that case 18 months or so ago – the one where that guy killed his mistress, chopped of her finger and tried to frame his wife?  Since then."

"It's an interesting field," Grissom nodded.  Nick grabbed a couple of mugs, and placed them on the table, along with a small container of cream and some sugar, before sitting in the empty seat across from Grissom.

"I like it."  Nick reached over and tapped the top book, "There are so many species and sub-species of birds, it's incredible.  But that's not why you're here."

Grissom sighed, "No.   Listen, Nick – I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain why you were flirting with Marta.  You're theory is a good one – best one we have to work on.  Catherine's at the salon right now."

Nick grinned, "Yeah?  She getting a style on lab money?"

"No.  At least, she better not be.  I don't have the full story, but apparently she knows this Stefan guy.  Says he owes her a favor."  Grissom looked at his hands, "You know Catherine."

Nick laughed, " Yeah, I know Catherine." 

A brief silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the steady drip of the percolator.  Grissom sighed suddenly and looked at Nick, "I also wanted to apologize to you.  I don't think you're stupid, and I shouldn't have implied that you don't bring anything to the cases we work on.  You do – you bring a lot."

Nick cocked an eyebrow at Grissom, "I know you didn't mean it.  I'll admit, at the time I was angry, but I got over it on the drive home.  I understand where your anger was coming from."

Grissom looked at Nick blankly, "Frustrating case; and –"

"Jealousy."

Grissom dropped his gaze from Nick's and gingerly removed his glasses, twirling them in his fingers.  "Maybe," he finally conceded softly.  

"That's what I told Sara when she showed up.  Why is it so hard for you to admit your feelings, Grissom?"

Grissom shrugged, but didn't respond.  Nick sighed, "You want to know what I think?"

"Is this a trick question?"  Grissom asked wryly, surprising a quick laugh from Nick. "I do value your opinions, Nick."

Nick stood and grabbed the coffee, quickly pouring both of them a cup. Grissom picked up a small package of sugar twin and plied it restlessly between his fingers, watching as Nick doctored his own coffee.   "Okay then – in a nutshell, I think you don't trust people.  You're afraid of being hurt.  Whether this is because you were badly hurt in the past, I have no idea.  And it's getting worse – in the last two years, you've shut yourself off more than ever before.  Am I wrong?"

Grissom didn't respond, but Nick could tell from the way the older man had hunched his shoulders inwards slightly that his words had struck a chord.  He sighed.

"Remember when we were investigating the Haviland case, and you made me primary on the body we found at the golf course?  You came out to watch, along with Gerard.  You were both standing at the opposite side of the sand trap.  I heard what he said to you – about your mother."

Grissom looked up at Nick, blue eyes startled.  "What?"

"About you're mother being deaf, Grissom.  I heard your conversation.  So I've been watching you.  You always avoid having conversations with anyone near the copy room.  When we have meetings, instead of having them in the break room, where we always used to, we have them in the large seminar room now – the quietest room at the lab.  You didn't realize your Big Mouth Billy Bass had dead batteries until someone asked you why they never heard it anymore.  Whenever possible, you look directly at whomever is speaking to you so you don't miss anything they're saying.  You're losing your hearing – might have been for some time now, and you've gone into protection mode.  You've always had walls, but they're getting bigger."

Grissom looked at Nick, stricken and angry and defeated all at the same time.  "My…hearing, or lack of it…has nothing to do with –"

"Me?  Our team?  Sara?"  Nick's voice was gentle but firm.  "Of course it does, Grissom.  It affects us all – because we work with you, but more importantly because we care for you.  We're your friends.  And you're shutting us out.  I have to admit, you've been subtle about it.  You've always been a loner, but you used to know how to have fun.  You used to laugh.  Christ – you even used to date; albeit unsuccessfully.  But you don't do any of that anymore."

"I –"

Nick held up his hand, "Shut up and listen to me for a minute.  When was the last time you joined any of us for breakfast after shift, or had a really good laugh at something? When was the last time you were really, really happy?"

Grissom looked at Nick, then looked at his hands again.  His glasses hung limply in his fingers.  Running his thumb absently over the nose piece, he briefly imagined what it would be like to snap them in half.  Instead, he shrugged and didn't say anything.

Nick sighed, "You realize you don't have to go through any of this alone.  If you reach out to us, we'll be there for you Grissom.  If you reach out to Sara –"

"It would never work."  Grissom interrupted.

 "Of course it would." Nick retorted, "If you really wanted it to.  You just have to decide that you'd rather be happy with her, than miserable alone.  And don't tell me you haven't been miserable, thinking of her with someone else.  Thinking of her with me."

"When I came in you were –"

"Dozing on the sofa together.  Big deal – we must have fallen asleep while I was trying to cheer her up.  Despite Harry and Sally, men and women can just be friends you know."

"Harry and Sally?" Grissom was confused.  

Nick laughed, "Not important.  What is important is whether or not you love her.  You do love her, don't you Grissom?"

Grissom nodded miserably, and Nick grinned, "Then tell her.  Nothing else matters.  All of these obstacles you think there are – they're in your mind, Grissom.  The age difference, the fact you work together, your hearing – in the grand scheme of things, none of it matters.  You'll love whom you love.  And so will she."

Nick chugged back the remaining coffee in his cup, and walked over to the dishwasher.  "I have to run up to the grocery store – I don't have anything to make for dinner, and I'm assuming you're staying."  Looking at his watch, he grabbed his keys from the counter top, "You might want to wake Sara up to keep you company.  I'll be at least half an hour."

Grissom shook his head, about to protest, but swallowed his words when he saw the serious look on Nick's face.  The younger man stepped towards him, placing a hand on either shoulder and squeezing them firmly.

 "She makes you happy Grissom.  Even when she's making you miserable.  So you're running away from her faster than you run from the rest of us, because of us all Sara is the one that makes you feel the most.  She can hurt you.  What you have to realize, Grissom, is that she hasn't hurt you yet – but you hurt her everyday just by denying her and yourself the opportunity to be happy together.  If you really loved her – you wouldn't hurt her like that anymore.  Let her in, Grissom."

* * * * *

Catherine hadn't ever seen Marta, but she recognized her the minute she waltzed into the salon.  Brass had been right on the money when he had described her face as 'tighter than an alcoholic at the biggest party of the year'.  

Catherine was already firmly ensconced in the VIP room at the back of the salon, getting a scalp massage from Daniel, Stefan's personal assistant.  Stefan had started out in Vegas as the stylist for the girls at 'The Brass Rail', the club where Catherine had started dancing at long ago.  They had been friends for ages.  Stefan was carefully setting out his scissors and accoutrements when Marta had glided in behind the front receptionist.

"Marta!  You are looking lovely, as always."

Marta nodded, "Hello Stefan.  Are you ready to make me beautiful?"

Stefan smiled, "How can I improve upon perfection?" Nodding to Catherine, he made quick introductions, "This is Ms. Catherine Willows.  She's a very good friend of mine.  I'm afraid I double booked the time slot, but she has agreed to wait while you have your hair done first.  I hope you don't mind if she stays in here with us?"

Before Marta could reply, Catherine added, "You look very familiar to me.  I'm trying to place your face…" she nodded suddenly.  "You're a model, aren't you?  I think I saw you at a show in Italy a few years ago.  You were tremendous!"

Marta preened, "You saw me on the catwalk?  I wonder what show it was for?"

"I don't remember the designer, but I do remember you.  You were absolutely stunning.  And you still look the same as you did then!"

The conversation continued for the next hour, Catherine being properly enthusiastic and complimentary as Stefan worked on Marta's hair, expressing her disbelief that the shade Marta currently sported was not god-given.

"Stefan is a genius with color!" Marta had gushed, "My normal shade is blonde."

When her hair had been finished, she had stood and bid Catherine a warm goodbye.  "I do hope we meet again – maybe at the Spring show in Paris?"

Catherine had smiled back, "Maybe sooner than that!"

Watching the woman leave, Catherine had turned to Stefan, "She come here often?"

"Too often," the stylist had replied.  "It was actually nice to have someone else here listening to her inane chatter and buttering her massive ego for a change.  Frankly, I think I missed your calling – you should have been an actress."

Catherine smirked, "I was an actress, remember?  I used to pretend every night I liked dancing.  And then, I married Eddie."

"True," Stefan sighed, patting Catherine on the shoulder in mock-consolation, "Are you the one responsible for his belief that he was God's gift to woman?"

Catherine rolled her eyes, "Guilty as charged.  Men – always wanting their egos stroked."

"Tell me about it," Stephan winked at Catherine and smirked at Daniel.  "So – how do we do this?"

Catherine pulled a couple of evidence baggies out of her pocket, snapped on some gloves, and carefully put the brush Stefan had used in one of the bags, before picking up some of the trimmings from the floor and putting them in the other bag.  "Thanks, Stef.  You're a doll."

"Anything for you, Catherine.  You know that."

* * * * *

Someone was watching her.  Shifting slightly, Sara felt the smooth leather of Nick's sofa beneath her cheek and gingerly opened her eyes.  "Quit staring at me, Nicky," she muttered groggily.

 "I'm not Nick."  The unexpected sound of Grissom's voice caused Sara to jerk.  With an unceremonious thud, she landed on the floor. 

"Sara!  Are you all right?" 

Sara didn't reply.  Instead, she pushed herself up and glared over the coffee table at Grissom from beneath her tousled hair.

"Where's Nick?" she demanded.

"He left  - he –"

"Running him out of his own home now, Grissom?"  Sara interrupted.  "Why am I not surprised?"

Grissom gaped at her, before sinking into the armchair to the left of the sofa.  "For you information, he went to get some groceries.  He's invited us to stay for dinner."

Sara had pushed herself up off the floor, and slumped back into the sofa.  "He always was a soft touch.  I hope you came to apologize to him, and not yell at him for taking off."

"Are you always this miserable when you wake up?"  Grissom half-smiled, ignoring the biting tone of her voice.  "Because it isn't very appealing."

Sara snorted, "Add it to the list of things you don't like about me."

"I'll do that," Grissom retorted dryly.  Sara rolled her eyes at him, before jumping to her feet.  

"Well, I think I'm going to head out.  Tell Nick I couldn't stay for dinner, will you?"

Grissom rose as well, "Sara – we need to talk."

"About what?" Sara snapped.  "I think I told you more than enough earlier today.  And I don't really feel like standing here and discussing anything else with you."

"Not even if I apologize to you?"

It was Sara's turn to gape.  "Pardon me?"

"I'm sorry for whatever I've done to make you so angry with me," Grissom responded calmly.  "I never meant to hurt you or make you feel badly in any way.  And I'm sorry I yelled at Nick without listening to him first.  Okay?"

Sara's eyes narrowed, "You never meant to hurt me?"

"Never.  I think I've been giving you the wrong impression, Sara, and - "

Sara turned away from him and headed down the hallway.  "Can it, Grissom.  I don't want to hear it.  I already figured out earlier that you were oblivious to – me – and –" she stopped talking.  Her chest felt so tight, she thought her heart was going to explode.  _*Damn Nick and his bright fucking ideas!*  Leaning_ her head against the doorway, she felt tears burning in the back of her eyes.  

She felt Grissom's presence behind her, and tried to ignore the urge to flee.  Where the hell had she kicked her boots?

Grissom stopped a couple of feet from Sara, arms hanging uselessly at his sides.  Her slim back was to him, and her head hung heavily on her neck.  Grissom wanted to brush his fingers over the back of her neck, but was too scared to touch her.  His hand reached out tentatively, stalling in mid-air when Sara swung around and glared at him.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me!" she whispered harshly.  Her eyes were dark and anguished, and the agony in them was almost unbearable.  Grissom flinched from the searing pain he saw there, even as he stepped forward another step, marveling as his hand reached out of its' own accord and brushed lightly across her cheekbone, before his palm turned inward and cupped her jaw.

"Sara -"  Her skin was so soft and warm it was unbelievable.  Grissom could feel her pulse race hectically against his hand, and he felt his own heart accelerate to match.  He stepped in another foot.

Sara closed her eyes.  She was scared to look at him.  She knew if she did she would start to cry and never stop.

"I've never been oblivious to you."

 "Yes, you have," Sara responded softly.

"I haven't."  Grissom's breath whispered across her face, and Sara caught the slightest whiff of coffee and mints.  "Nick was right."

His soft admittance made her open her eyes.  He was so close she could see his pupils dilate as his blue eyes locked with her brown.  "Nick?"

"Nick," Grissom agreed.  "I am jealous of your relationship with him."

"But there's no –"

"I know."

"Than why –"

"I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of you.  I'm not used to feeling like this, and –"

"What do you feel, Grissom?"

"Happy.  Alive.  Complete."  He responded so softly, Sara almost couldn't believe she had actually heard him correctly.

"And you're scared because -?"

"I could get used to it, and then when you leave – it will kill me."

Sara's hands had drifted slowly up Grissom's sides, one coming to rest on his shoulder and the other wrapping slightly around the curve of his neck, fingers lightly stroking through his curls.  "Why would I leave?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Sara leaned closer, "Because I lo –"

But her words were swallowed when Grissom kissed her.

___________________________________

Author's Note:

See – I told you I would have the next chapter up quickly!  Please R&R – and I must warn you – next chapter, be prepared for the YoBling! 


	22. WAYS

XXII - WAYS

Nick felt odd ringing his own doorbell.  Standing on the front step, several bags of groceries in his hands, he actually had to bump the bell with his shoulder.

He rang it three times before Sara answered it, her look oblique as she moved to the side to allow Nick in.

"Did you forget your keys?"

Nick shook his head, "Nope.  But, you know – I didn't want to barge in."  Lowering his voice, he asked, "Grissom still here?"  

"Yes."

"And?"  

Sara shrugged and grinned, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, before reaching out and grabbing a couple of the grocery bags.

"We talked."

Nick followed her into the kitchen and deposited the bags on the countertop, before turning and studying her again.  Her hair was slightly disheveled; her cheeks flushed a light pink.  Her entire face glowed.  "He kiss you?"

"Nick!"

Nick laughed, "That answers that question.  Where is Grissom now?"

"He's out in the back yard, admiring your telescope.  We were outside when you got back – that's why we didn't hear the doorbell."

"Right."  He started taking the groceries out of the bags and putting them away, before suddenly turning to her and reaching out, gripping her shoulder as he studied her intently.  "So, are you happy?"

Sara smiled, willingly stepping into his comfortable embrace, "I'm going to be.  Thanks to you."

* * * * *

Warrick was making homemade chili when the excited yapping of the ugly little puppy, followed by Lindsey's excited shriek of 'Mommy!' announced Catherine's return home.  Placing the large chopping knife down, he carefully washed his hands and headed towards the front entrance.

Catherine was on her knees, arms full of Lyndsey and puppy, try to avoid the kisses the hairier of the two was trying to give her.  Sensing Warrick's presence, she looked up and smiled.  Warrick felt his heart do a small somersault before free-falling to the pit of his stomach.  She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.

"Hey."

"Hey.  I smell something good."

Warrick smiled, "Thought I'd make you some of my Grams famous steak chili.  How'd it go at the salon?"

Catherine grinned, "Stephan gave me the hairbrush he used.  I dropped it off at the lab on my way home."   Slowly disentangling herself from her daughter, she rose gracefully to her feet.  "So, this is your puppy?"

Lynds hopped from foot to foot, "Isn't she sweet?  I named her Warrick Brown, but we're going to call her Brownie, okay mommy? Because Warrick isn't a good name for a little girl doggie.  Warrick took us to a great big pet store, and he bought Brownie a purple collar with diamonds on it and a matching leash.  But the collar is too big for her right now – but it's so pretty!  And we got her a crate with a nice doggie pillow with purple bones all over it!  And some chewie toys, because Warrick said we don't want her chewing my Barbies or your shoes, and –"

Catherine laughed, and threw her hands up in the air, "Lynds!  Slow down!  Sounds like Warrick has been spoiling you."

Lyndsey rolled her eyes, "Not _me_, Mommy!  He's spoiling the puppy!"

Warrick grinned at Catherine's amused sigh, before interrupting, "Brownie's sniffing, Lynds.  Remember what that means?"

Lyndsey shrieked, and scooped the little dog up, running down the hallway, "She needs to do her business!"

Catherine looked at Warrick and smiled tiredly, "Has she been like that since you got the puppy?"

"Since before.  It's been a big day.  You look tired Cath.  Come talk to me while I finish the chili."

Catherine followed Warrick into the kitchen, and sank gratefully into a chair at the table.  Warrick had the radio playing, and Catherine smiled when she realized he hadn't changed the station from the classic rock she normally listened too.

"I never realized you were so domesticated," she offered, watching him as he resumed chopping some green pepper into small squares, before tossing them into a crock pot he had managed to dig out from one of her cupboards.

The sauce was simmering nicely, and Catherine's stomach growled when she caught a whiff of the chili when he lifted the top.  "This should be done in about an hour – I've had the steak tips in the sauce for a good long time now.  You look tired, Cath."  

"I am tired."

Warrick walked over, placing his hands on either side of her neck, massaging his thumbs into her shoulders.  He smiled when she sighed and dropped her head forward, allowing him greater access to her neck.  

"That feels so good!" Catherine groaned, "Don't stop."

"I won't," Warrick agreed affably.  Neither spoke for a few minutes.  Warrick continued massaging Catherine's neck, trying not to imagine how his hands would look caressing the pale flesh of other parts of her body.  He wondered if she had the same thoughts.

The radio was playing in the background.

 ~ She's got a way about her  
I don't know what it is  
But I know that I can't live without her  
  
She's got a way of pleasin'  
I don't know what it is  
But there doesn't have to be a reason  
Anyway  
  
She's got a smile that heals me  
I don't know why it is  
But I have to laugh when she reveals me  
  
She's got a way of talkin'  
I don't know what it is  
But it lifts me up when we are walkin'  
Anywhere ~

Catherine listened to Warrick humming as he rubbed her neck and shoulders. She could feel a lethargic heat seeping from his hands deep into the pit of her stomach, an exciting warmth pooling through her system and sending little tendrils of electricity through her limbs.

Sighing deeply, she slowly stood up, her back to Warrick as he continued rubbing her shoulders.  Turning towards him, she smiled when he didn't drop his hands.  The purposeful movement of his fingers had changed from a deep massage to a gentle stroking of her collarbone.

"Warrick," she murmured.  His eyes were electric green.  Reaching a hand up, she brushed the side of his face tenderly, reveling in the feel of his stubble beneath her palm.  Warrick's hands tightened on her shoulders, pulling her closer.  She felt like she was drowning.

The first touch of his lips was so tender and tentative, it made her want to cry from sheer joy.  He brushed his lips gently over hers, barely tasting the warm flesh of her mouth, before pulling away slightly.  Catherine felt her other hand trail up his back, fingers categorizing the warm splay of muscle and sinew through his shirt, before coming to rest at the back of his neck.  She smiled at him.

"You are so beautiful," she whispered.

"That's my line," he whispered back, before kissing her again.  This time, the kiss was deeper, less tentative.  Catherine felt as if her blood was on fire, roaring through her veins uncontrollably.  She lost track of time as she simply allowed herself to revel in the taste of him; his gentleness and strength a marvel to her.

Warrick trailed his hands down to her hips, pulling her closer, before spanning her waist with his grip.  His heart was pounding triple time, urging him on.  With hardly any effort, he lifted her and took three steps forward, placing her gently on the counter and stepping into the cradle of her hips.  He could feel the strong flex of her thighs around his waist, and groaned into her mouth.  Her hands had dropped down to the waistband of his pants and snaked underneath his shirt, her fingers against the hot skin of his back.

They were going up in flames, but what a way to die.

It took a few moments for the fact that they were no longer alone in the kitchen to penetrate.  Warrick groaned silently when a soft furry body scampered over his feet and started playing with the shoelaces on his Nikes.  Opening an eye and pulling away from Catherine slightly, he slanted a gaze sideways and saw Lyndsey standing just inside the kitchen, staring at them with amazement.

Catherine sighed and buried her face in his chest, flushing a deep red before turning to look at Lyndsey as well.

The little girl was the first to speak.  "You two were kissing just like they do on the soap operas 'Nessa watches."  Walking over to the fridge, she grabbed herself a juice box before turning and looking at them seriously.  "Does this mean I'm gonna get a baby sister?"

Catherine would have laughed out loud at the question, if she wasn't so embarrassed.  Her startled gaze flew to Warrick's, but he was just looking at the little girl in amazed stupification.  Catherine realized she still had her legs on either side of his waist.

"Lynds, honey.  What makes you think we're going to have a baby?"

Lyndsey looked at Catherine and rolled her eyes, "Mommy, everyone knows that's how you get babies.  You find someone you like a lot and don't mind kissing, and you kiss like they do on TV, and then you're a family and get babies.  But I don't want a brother."

Warrick had finally collected his wits about him and stepped away from Catherine, ostensibly stirring the chili, before turning to smile at the little girl.  "That's not quite how it works, Lynds."

Lyndsey interrupted him, "Do you love me?"

Warrick blinked at her, before sending a pleading look at Catherine, who simply shook her head.  Warrick sighed, "You know you're my best girl."

"Mary-Ellen has a new uncle who lives with her and her mommy.  He loves her so much, they're getting married and becoming a family together, and he's going to be her new daddy.  You're my uncle.  Why don't you live with us, and become my 'nother daddy?"

"Because, Lynds.  There's so much more than that involved.  You're mom and I – we haven't even been out on a date yet.  We can't just decide to get married out of the blue."

Lyndsey turned to her mother, "You hafta take Warrick out on a date.  Buy him red roses, and chocolates, and then bring him home and kiss him some more.  And then, you can preposition him."

Catherine almost choked, "Preposition him?"

"Yeah.  Get down on one knee, and say 'Warrick, will you marry me and Lyndsey?'"

Warrick smiled indulgently at the little girl, biting back the sudden laughter that threatened to overwhelm him along with a surge of affection so strong it almost brought him to his knees.  Stepping forwards, he crouched down in front of Lyndsey and hugged her.  "I love you, Lyndsey-Lou.  But let your mom and I figure this out on our own, okay?"

* * * * *

Nick was having a good time.  He had prepared a large Greek salad for the three of them, and grilled a couple of steaks for Grissom and himself.  Standing at the BBQ, he had watched Grissom and Sara surreptitiously as they kept sneaking glances at each other.  It reminded him so much of high school, he had a hard time keeping himself from laughing.

Initially, he had tried to maintain some semblance of small talk, but he quickly realized the conversation was completely one-sided on his part.  Sara and Grissom would answer, of course, before both lapsed into a silent language of subtle looks and covert touches only two people in the early throws of romance shared.

Nick decided to content himself as a spectator.  Watching Sara and Grissom dance around their suddenly revealed feelings for each other was like watching the mating ritual of two socially inept ostriches who had both finally managed to pull their heads out of the sand at the same time.  It would have been painful to watch, if it wasn't so fascinating.  They really were perfect for each other.

He had just finished his steak when his beeper, along with both Sara's and Grissom's, went off simultaneously.  Nick jumped to his feet.  "I'll call in.  You two finish your meals."

Heading into his kitchen, he grabbed the phone and punched in the number for the lab.  Judy at reception quickly patched him through to Greg.

"Greggo!" Nick greeted, "What are you doing at work two hours before shift starts?"

"Actually, Nick, I've been here for two hours already, so technically I pulled a double.  After I dropped Grissom off at your place, I decided to come back to the lab and wait for Catherine to come back from the salon.  Caught some zzz's on that crappy-ass loveseat in the break room.   What's up?"

"I don't know – you tell me.  You're the one that paged me."

"And Grissom, and Sara.  They still both at your place?"

"Just finishing dinner," Nick replied.

"Did Sara deck him yet?"

"Nope."

"You and Grissom all squared away?  Grissom and Sara - ?"

Nick rolled his eyes, but grinned into the phone when he responded, "Greg – everything's great.  More than that, you won't get from me – I'm not the social convener.  So spill - why'd you page?"

"The brush Catherine got from the salons was full of fresh epithelials.  I ran the DNA against what we managed to get from the ventilation system, and it's a match.  You were right on the money – Marta's involved up to her eyeballs, and Miles is her brother."

_____________________________  

Author's Note:  Sorry for the delay, folks.  Hope it was worth it.  Please R&R – and I'll try to get the next chapter posted ASAP.  The song on the radio is Billy Joel's _'She's __Got A Way__'._


	23. SUSPECTS

XXIII – SUSPECTS

Brass was waiting for Grissom when he arrived at the lab.  Greg had called him, and Brass was working on a warrant for Marta's house, but he was also curious as to what Grissom was going to say to Nick when the younger man arrived.  Brass had never seen his friend admit he was wrong before; nor had he ever heard him apologize to anyone. 

Of course, not being privy to the fact that Grissom had already gone to apologize to Nick after shift earlier that day, he was slightly – disappointed – when Grissom, Sara and Nick all arrived at the same time.  Not that he wanted to see Grissom squirm *he did, sorta* -but…  

"Brass – you're here!"  Grissom's voice interrupted Brass' thoughts.  

Brass shot Grissom a sardonic glance, before responding dryly, "What was your first clue?"

Grissom grinned at that – grinned! – and Brass blinked.  Twice.  What the fuck?

"Greg called you."

"Yeah.  I'm just working on a warrant for Marta's house.  I'm assuming you're going to want to speak with Miles?"

"Eventually.  I'll wait until you bring Marta in."

Brass nodded, "Fine with me."  He looked over at Nick, who was still standing there, and smiled, "Good call on the hair, Nick.  You broke the case."

Nick smiled at that, "Sometimes, knowing how to flirt is a good thing, right Grissom?"  

Brass blinked again.  Was Nick teasing Grissom?  He shot a look at Sara, who was trying not to grin, before looking in disbelief back at Grissom, who was actually a little red in the face.  

Brass shook his head, before leaning in and studying Grissom's ID with great exaggeration.

Grissom sighed, "Jim – what are you doing?"

"Wanted to make sure it was really you, and not Rod Sterling." Brass muttered, before grinning at his friend.  "I missed the apology, eh?"

Grissom rolled his eyes, but didn't seem too upset that Brass had asked.  Brass smiled, "I thought it would get a lot colder in Nevada when Hell froze over."

* * * * *

Sara was talking to Greg in the break room when Warrick arrived, Lyndsey in tow.  "Hey – you seen Grissom around?"

Sara shrugged, "He and Nick went with Brass to search Marta's place and bring her in for questioning."

"Grissom and Nick?"

"Yeah," Sara grinned. "Hey, Lynds, what are you doing here?"

"Vanessa's car broke down so mommy went to get her.  Warrick brought me with him until Vanessa can take me home," the little girl stated, matter-of-factly.  "Did you know I gots a new puppy?  Uncle Warrick took my today to get one."

"Wow, a puppy!"  Greg grinned, "Is she cute?  I have a dog too – Ms. America - he's looking for a girlfriend."

Lyndsey giggled, "Gre-egggy – my puppy's just a puppy – she's too little to fall in love."

"And since we got her at the ASPCA, she's going to be s-p-a-y-e-d," Warrick spelled out, as he reached into the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, "before she does."

Greg sighed, "So – no puppies?"

"No puppies." Warrick confirmed.

Lyndsey looked back and forth between the two men.  "I don't need anymore puppies anyway," she announced.  "I'm getting a new baby sister."

Warrick choked, "Lyndsey – you know that's not -"

Sara interrupted him, "Your mom is going to have a baby?"

The little girl nodded happily, "Soon, now.  She and Uncle Warrick are going to get married."

The silence in the room was deafening.  Warrick could feel the hot blush spreading across his face.

"Warrick and Catherine?"  Greg sounded both shocked and gleeful, and Warrick stifled a groan.  Cath was going to kill him.

"Lynds," he began again, his voice gruff.  

The little girl just grinned at him.  "What?  You were kissing her."

"I thought we explained that -"

"You said you loved me."

"I do -"

"You got me a puppy."

"Well, yes.  But puppies are a lot easier to get then babies, and -"  Warrick stopped talking, and looked at Greg and Sara, who were both avidly listening.  "You two mind?" he muttered.

"I don't mind.  Do you mind, Greg?"  Sara asked.

Greg shrugged, but he winked at Lyndsey when he did.  "Why should I care who Warrick kisses?  He's not my boyfriend!"

Lyndsey giggled, and Warrick glared at Sara and Greg. "Will you two knock it off?"

"But this is so – elucidating…" Greg replied.

Sara snorted, and he turned to look at her, smiling evilly, "Grissom kiss you yet, Sara?"

Sara turned beet-red, "Wh-what?"

"You heard me."

"You and Grissom are gonna have a baby too?" Lyndsey squealed, "That's so cool!"

* * * * *

Marta was nothing if not blatant.  When Brass had rung her doorbell, she had answered in a short black silk peignoir set.  She had looked at Brass blankly for all of two seconds, before she caught sight of Nick over Brass' shoulder, and smiled flirtatiously.

"Well, hello there.  I wasn't expecting to see you again so – soon.  Or with anyone else.  What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Warrant."  Brass muttered, "And we'll need to take you back to the station with us."

Marta's hand fluttered to her chest, and she stepped back into the foyer, "Warrant?  For what?"

"We know you were involved in the burglary at the Icarus."  Nick said this with a great deal of satisfaction as he followed Brass and Grissom into the house.  "We have your brother in custody.  Your hair looks nice, by the way."

Marta quirked her eyebrows together. "My – brother?  What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Raymond Miles, concierge at the Icarus.  Your brother."  Grissom elucidated.  "DNA doesn't lie."

"DNA?"  Marta repeated blankly.  

"You might want to change," Nick offered.  "I don't think you want to go to the station wearing that."

Marta looked stunned, "I'm expecting company."

"Anyone we should know about?" Nick questioned.  "Perhaps another accomplice?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Nick sighed, "Marta.  You're involved up to your eyeballs.  We got you dead to rights."

Marta wrapped her arms around herself and sullenly followed the three men further into the house, trying to pretend she wasn't nervous.  "You're not going to find anything here – I wasn't involved."

"And I'm Harry Houdini," Brass muttered.  Grissom walked into Marta's bedroom and lifted the top off the laundry hamper.

"Do you really need to go through my dirty laundry?" 

"Yes."  Grissom's reply was succinct.  "Hey, Nick – look at this."

Nick walked over to where Grissom was standing, and glanced into the hamper.  "Black spandex cat suit," he grinned, quickly pulling on a pair of latex gloves and lifting it out of the hamper, "One piece.  Wonder if any of the fibers Cat retrieved from the ventilation system will match."

Turning, he let his eyes wander over the room, before he headed towards the large walk-in closet dominating the far wall.  "Anything interesting in here?  Like a watch cap?  Or perhaps some jewelry that doesn't belong to you?"

Marta stared at them sullenly.  Brass smiled at her grimly before opening up a couple of dresser drawers and rifling through them.  "I found a gun," he offered, as he popped open the clip and counted the bullets, "We're missing three.  Pretty sloppy, Marta."

The sound of the doorbell made them all jump.  "You better answer that," Brass offered.  "Sounds like your company has arrived.  Nick – you want to go with her?  I'll cover, in case something goes wrong."

Nick grinned, "Sure thing, Brass."  Taking Marta's arm, he escorted her down the hallway.  The doorbell peeled again.

"Answer it."

"Fine," Marta retorted, pasting a false smile on her face and opening the doorway.  

It was Willem van der Brucke.

* * * * *

Catherine sighed as she flipped open her cell phone, "Yeah?"

"Cath – it's me."

"Hey Warrick.  I'll be there soon – Vanessa's with me.  Her car's been towed to that garage you were telling us about.  I'm going to give her my car – you don't mind taking me home after shift, do you?"  Her tone was teasing, and she grinned at the silence on the other end as she winked at Vanessa.  The younger woman grinned at her.

"It's fine with me Cath – I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"About what?"

"Lynds told Greg and Sara about her new baby sister."

Catherine almost drove off the road, "She did what?"

"You heard me."

"But we told her -"

"I know what we told her, and obviously, she wasn't listening."

Dead silence, on both ends.  Finally, Catherine sighed, "Does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

"The fact that everyone at the lab is going to know we're seeing each other outside of work."

She felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for Warrick to answer.  "Doesn't bother me," he finally responded.  "As long as we really are seeing each other outside the lab."

Catherine smiled, "Where's Lyndsey now?"

"Greg hooked up one of the video games for her, and they're playing.  Want to know something else?"

"Don't tell me we're having twins – I couldn't handle that," Catherine teased.

Warrick chuckled, "Nope – no twins.  But apparently, Grissom and Sara are _'having a baby'_, too."

Catherine shrieked and dropped the phone, feeling for it frantically before bringing it back to her ear, "Warrick – you still there?"

"Yeah.  But I think my hearing is damaged."

"Sorry – but…did you just tell me Grissom finally kissed Sara?"

She could hear Warrick's smile over the phone, "That's what I said.  And, if Sara's blush was anything to go by when Greg was teasing her, it's true."

Catherine started laughing, "Well.  I'll be damned.  Nick's little scheme worked after all.  Go, Nicky!"

____________________________________

Author's Note:

Almost done with this story.  Only one or two more chapters.  Thanks for your continued patience – please R&R – it means a lot to me.


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